


Who Really Needs a Bodyguard?

by DLanaDHZ, JessicaMDawn



Category: The Amazing Spider-Man (Movies - Webb)
Genre: College, Developing Relationship, Domestic Avengers, Endgame Spiderflash, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Friendship, Heartache, M/M, Protective Flash, Protective Harry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-03
Updated: 2017-04-03
Packaged: 2018-09-21 17:10:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 21
Words: 91,858
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9559028
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DLanaDHZ/pseuds/DLanaDHZ, https://archiveofourown.org/users/JessicaMDawn/pseuds/JessicaMDawn
Summary: Peter's new friend Harry is a little over protective of his friends and hires Peter a bodyguard to keep him safe. Far from needing a bodyguard and busy saving the city, Peter faces many shenanigans to escape his diligent new guard and ex-bully, Flash Thompson.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Co-written by DLanaDHZ and JessicaMDawn over the course of a very long time. I honestly don't even remember when we started this. Right after they announced Dane DeHaan as Harry Osborne, I think?
> 
> Jess Edit: December 3rd, 2012 - Dane DeHaan announced as Harry Osborn for The Amazing Spider-Man 2. Holy cow.

 

 

"This really isn't necessary."

"I don't think you understand just how dangerous being my friend can be."

Peter watched his new friend punch in numbers on a virtual keyboard, disbelief on his face. He'd met Harry Osborn shortly after the arrest of Dr. Connors when Peter had been interviewed about the formula they'd been working on. Of course Peter did his best to convince them the serum was an obvious failure, but his brains and sincerity had won the attentions of the CEO's son.

It was one party invitation and one lunch date later when Harry Osborn declared them friends and demanded Peter get a bodyguard.

"Harry, I really can't have some conspicuous guy following me around all day every day. I have college classes. I have a job," Peter insisted.

"Of course. I know that." Harry pressed a few more keys and Peter realized he wasn't just hitting numbers. He was texting or emailing or…something like that. "He'll be in plain clothes. He'll be your age. He'll take classes at your college and give you space for work. It'll only be during waking hours, not when you're at home... unless there's an active threat. I already have the perfect person in mind. Tough. Intimidating. Familiar."

"Familiar?" Peter asked. His gut was rumbling with renewing queasiness. If he had a fulltime bodyguard, how was he supposed to be Spider-Man? Bodyguards were all business and restrictions and humorless and-

"Well yeah, you know the guy," Harry said. He brought up an image on the screen. "Eugene Thompson."

It was a photo of said guy looking particularly foreboding as he threatened a younger student in high school. Beside it was his professional, charming yearbook photo.

"Flash," Peter exhaled. At least all the news wasn't bad. It was at least someone he didn't hate.

"Right." Harry nodded. "Flash Thompson. He's in the job market and fits my parameters. I need someone no one will suspect in everyday interactions but who's strong enough to protect you. Your familiarity with Flash makes him an ideal choice. You became almost friends by the end of high school. This will be an extension of that."

"You know... I really don't need a bodyguard. I can handle myself," Peter tried again, knowing it was in vain.

"Peter." Harry walked over to him and placed his hands on Peter's shoulders. "You're my friend... and my friends tend to become targets for not so nice people. I'm just trying to keep you around. I like you."

"Well..." How was he supposed to argue with an earnest face like that? "Fine. I guess... I just..."

"Great!" Harry beamed at him and stepped away. "I'll let Flash know and he can start protecting you tomorrow. Sound good?"

"Y-... Yeah..." And hopefully his very not-good feeling wasn't totally obvious.

…

…

Flash Thompson. Peter had humiliated him in high school after years of bullying because his own new super human powers had gone to his head and he was tired of taking Flash's shit. Although he felt both proud and ashamed of his actions on the basketball court, he felt nothing but shame after Uncle Ben got hold of him. And then Flash had shown he wasn't just a bully when, despite that humiliation, he'd tried to comfort Peter after Uncle Ben's death. A few passing greetings in the hall later and they were graduating as unlikely acquaintances.

And now Flash Thompson was standing in front of Peter's house, picking him up for school and planning to never leave him alone for the foreseeable future. The consolation in all of this was that Flash looked just as confused and shocked to see Peter as Peter had felt when Harry had suggested the bodyguard in the first place.

Flash was standing on the Parker front porch, checking the number as though there was some possible malfunction in his ability to navigate.

"Parker?" he asked when he couldn't come up with any other explanations for why Peter was inside the house where his charge lived.

"Good to see your eyes still work," Peter said, a bit more Spider-Man than he intended. "I hear those are useful in a bodyguard. And before you totally freak out – I told Harry I didn't need one."

"I'm supposed to guard _you_?" Flash rubbed a hand over his mostly shaved head. "I mean, I will. We're cool. But if anyone we know sees us, they're going to be really, really confused."

"Aw come on, Flash. Don't tell me people think you're not a cool, nice guy. You'll break my mental image of you." Peter hefted his backpack higher on his shoulders and closed the front door behind him.

Flash didn't seem to know how to respond to that comment. He sort of grunted and just followed Peter as he walked down the street toward the city bus stop. Only when they were standing alone by the covered bench did he find any words again.

"So you and Harry Osborn, huh? Guess you've got a lot of friends in high places," he said, scanning the street like a dutiful guard.

Peter shrugged and tried not to laugh at how into this role Flash seemed to be. "We don't really know each other. I mean, he seems to know more about me than I'll ever know about him and we just met." He paused and turned to face Flash as the bus came into view. "You know, you don't have to do this. I can tell Harry you never left me alone, but you can go do whatever you want. I really don't need a bodyguard."

"No way, Parker. I got this job fair and square so I'm going to do it, whether you like it or not. You can just pretend I'm not here if it makes that much difference to you." He wasn't going to budge. Peter could tell, and he just sighed in response.

Flash boarded the bus first, eyed everyone on board, and found Peter a spot near the back. It would be their only bus trip since Harry would declare busses too unsafe and demand that Peter take the subway or Harry would send a car... and Peter would prefer the subway. He was beginning to think Harry would be a good-natured but very overbearing friend.

As if Peter didn't have enough trouble with the whole secret identity thing...

…

…

"So he's just following you everywhere?" Gwen asked, lowering her menu.

Peter groaned. "Yeeesss. He sits outside my classes. He walks me home at night and picks me up in the morning and even hovered around me at work. I mean, I told him I had a date tonight and he said that was 'fine' and to just pretend he wasn't here."

Gwen glanced over Peter's shoulder where she could see Flash sitting at a table by himself, talking to the wait staff but also keeping tabs on Peter. She shrugged.

"Well at least he's not totally obvious about it. He looks really natural over there," she said and nodded.

"Pff."

"I'm serious. He'd make a great undercover cop. Maybe I'll suggest him to the new police captain." She squinted and Peter glanced over his shoulder to make sure Flash hadn't gotten fuzzy or something.

"Why are you looking like that?" he asked when he turned back.

"Does he know?" she asked.

"Know what?" Peter picked up his glass of water and took a sip.

Gwen held her menu up to half hide her mouth. "About Spider-man," she whispered.

Peter's heart quickened and he put his cup down carefully so he wouldn't accidentally break it. With a shake of his head, he said what he couldn't with his mouth – partially because there was still water in it and partially because talking out loud gave the possibility of being overheard. He swallowed heavily.

"Are you gonna tell him? 'Cause I don't know how you're going to keep him from finding out if he's with you all the time," she pointed out as if Peter hadn't already realized the issue.

He groaned again. "I know. I know. I'm working on it. So far I've just been only going out at night, when he isn't with me, but I can't keep doing that. I'm not nocturnal. I have a job. I have school."

Gwen nodded and made a thoughtful noise. "Yep. Keep this up and people will start calling you Batman instead of Spider-man. Or maybe Night Crawler."

"Isn't there already a superhero named Night Crawler?" Peter asked and tossed his straw wrapper at her.

She tossed it back. "You two can fight over it."

"Pretty sure he'd win. He's had the name for awhile." Peter glanced over his shoulder again and this time Flash was looking back. Peter quickly looked away and sighed.

"You know, maybe you _could_ tell him. He might take it well," Gwen said and returned her eyes to the menu.

A laugh. "You're funny. Did you know you were funny? 'Cause you're funny. Really."

Gwen threw her own wrapper at him now. "Well you never know," she said.

Their waiter arrived a minute later and took their orders, which didn't take long since Gwen came here regularly and Peter really only liked one thing on the menu that wasn't dessert. Part of Peter worried how Flash would afford to eat anything, but then he remembered that Harry not only paid for Flash's time spent following Peter around but also paid for any expenses because of it.

"You know there is a bright side," Peter said after their food was delivered.

"Oh yeah?" Gwen grinned. "What is it?"

"Harry said Flash doesn't follow me on Wednesday mornings 'cause he's getting special self-defense training from Oscorp. And you know what tomorrow is?" Peter smirked.

"Wednesday?" she said more than asked.

"Oh yeah. So I can finally go out in the daylight again. It's gonna be great." And he meant it. He was looking forward to swinging through the buildings while the sun was shining. Flash had only been his bodyguard for a week, but it was already too stressful for Peter, and he missed the sun and warm air rushing by him.

Gwen congratulated him, but somehow she didn't seem nearly as pleased as Peter, and he couldn't decide what could possibly be a downside to this idea. But instead of ruining the date by asking her about something that might upset her, Peter kept his confusion to himself and simply complimented the food.

Behind him, Flash had the same thing as Peter, which coincidentally had not been planned. They both just didn't want to test anything else on the fancy menu. Flash relaxed in his chair as he ate, his chair letting out the softest of squeaks as he sat heavier in it, but Peter could feel each time he glanced over and was unable to remove the tension from his shoulders no matter how much he tried or how long the dinner went on.

…

…

_tbc_


	2. Chapter 2

At the moment, Peter was taking three college classes. He could've managed four or five or even six if he didn't have to worry about his duties as Spider-man or his job at the Daily Bugle. The point was moot, though, because he _did_ have to worry about being Spider-man and the Bugle. If Peter had earned more scholarships – or if he was willing to milk his budding friendship with a wealthy CEO's son for cash – then Peter wouldn't need the job at the newspaper so much. But Peter wasn't that kind of guy – the scholarship-applying-and-winning kind or the using-your-new-friend-for-money kind.

And there was no way he wasn't going to be Spider-man.

So Peter had long ago resigned himself to the fact that his college career would be longer than he liked, taking classes at a subdued pace. He was taking all basic level courses at the moment: Introduction to Modern Chemistry; Principles of Biology; and Human Genetics, Evolution, and Society. Okay, he'd had to get someone at OsCorp to write a recommendation on that last one because he was skipping a pre req, but after working with Dr. Connors that was cake.

Chemistry was his only course on Tuesdays and Thursdays, and he initially walked out of it glad that he was done and could get home to Aunt May, do some hero work, or hang out with Gwen.

Then he saw Flash.

He'd actually forgotten about Flash for the two hours he'd been in Chemistry, too interested in everything he was learning. But there Flash sat across the hall, on a decently comfortable looking chair. He had a textbook for something about leisure sports propped up in his lap, but he shut it as the rest of the chemistry class began to file out alongside Peter.

Flash didn't approach Peter, or even do more than glance at him. Instead, he slung his own bag over his shoulder and walked out of the building about a dozen feet ahead of Peter. It wasn't until Peter was almost halfway across Washington Square Park that Flash actually joined him.

"Enjoying being a student again?" Peter asked after several steps without talking. It was kind of weird to have full conversations with Flash, but total silence between them was also pretty unbearable.

Flash shrugged. "The class is interesting, but I can't believe I'm expected to do homework and studying at the same time I'm guarding you," he complained.

"You could always drop out," Peter suggested hopefully.

He'd had a bodyguard for a few weeks and he already wanted out. Granted, he'd wanted out from day one, so this wasn't a new development. While Flash had seemed to sort of morph into Peter's life almost seamlessly, Peter was still picking at the stitches like he could separate them if he tugged enough.

Flash shot him a look. "Not a chance, Parker. It might be extra work, but it's free college and it's something to do other than stare at walls while you're in class."

"Didn't you have an athletic scholarship when we graduated?" Peter asked as they left the park behind and headed for the train station at a quick pace. The faster Peter got home, the faster he was free of Flash. Well, the faster he wouldn't be in _public_ with Flash.

That got a snort from his ex-bully. "Yeah, but not to ESU. Besides, I don't want to be a professional athlete."

Peter shot him a confused look. "So you've always wanted to be a bodyguard?" he asked, his disbelief clear in his tone.

Before Flash could answer, a woman shouted from down the street. "Hey, stop! Somebody help! He stole my purse!"

There was a guy, about his late twenties with dark shaggy hair, running in their direction with a dull red purse in his hands. He was either pushing people out of the way or dodging around them, whichever was easiest to aid his escape with his prize. Peter inwardly cursed and began trying to think of some way to stop him without giving himself away to Flash.

He stumbled to the side when Flash pushed him in the shoulder – more caught off guard than because Flash could actually force him to move. Then Flash took a step forward just as the man reached where they'd been standing, lifted his arm, and soundly clothes-lined the man. The sound of his arm making contact with the thief's shoulders and neck, and the resulting crash into the sidewalk, actually made Peter jump.

"Oh my-," he let out, looking between the thief and Flash. "I get it now. You took this job so you could beat people up."

It wasn't an accusation, but it wasn't quite a tease either. Flash frowned and knelt to hold the thief down when he tried to stand again. Peter accepted the purse from Flash when it was offered, and gave it back to the woman when she reached them.

"Let's get this guy to the cops," Flash said.

Peter sighed. So much for getting home quick.

…

…

OsCorp was as busy as ever, buzzing like a hive of bees, and it was easy to forget a giant lizard man had stormed through the building and tried to destroy the city just over one year ago. All the damage was cleared away and fixed like new. And fewer and fewer people got squeamish or uncomfortable around the photo of Dr. Connors still hanging on the wall of distinguished and honored OsCorp employees.

Yes, it was business as normal at OsCorp. Officially Peter still didn't work there, but all of his security codes from when he helped Dr. Connors still opened doors. He wasn't about to point that out to anyone. It made visiting Gwen much easier.

"Hey, Slugger," she greeted him when she spotted him half skipping into her lab, a wide smile bursting onto her face. "What's the occasion?"

"I need an excuse to see my girlfriend?" Peter asked and leaned in to kiss her, which she accepted. "My beautiful. Smart. Creative. Amazing girlfriend?" And he punctuated each word with another kiss until she was laughing and leaning away from him to escape the onslaught.

"Okay, okay," she said through her giggles. "You don't need a reason. Point taken." Her laughter died off as he stopped his attack, but her smile did not. Not even as she motioned to the hallway behind Peter. "But you sure you didn't come to visit just to escape your watchdog?"

Peter turned to look at Flash, who was leaning on the wall out in the hall. The glass doors of the large lab gave them a clear view of the man, but also him a clear view of them, so Peter turned back quickly. For the moment, Flash was distracted by something down the hall, but it was always awkward to be caught staring.

"Yeeeah, maybe a little bit?" He winced a little as he turned back to her, hoping that new information didn't upset her.

She didn't look upset... exactly. More like unimpressed. Her eyebrow was raised, her mouth still turned up slightly from his greeting, and mostly she seemed interested to hear his full excuse. It was like a child facing their mother after cheating on a test or stealing the last candy bar.

"Okay, like, he's not awful. I mean, he stopped a purse snatcher yesterday. But he's just around aaaalll the tiiiime, Gwen." Yes he was whining. He wasn't afraid to admit it. He pouted and tugged on the sleeve of her lab coat. "I just needed a break and I wanted to see you anyway, so I told him he couldn't come in because of security reasons."

She laughed again at that and poked him in the nose. "Technically, you're not allowed in here either because of security reasons."

Peter grinned. "Are you gonna kick me out? Call security?"

With a roll of her eyes, she slipped her hand into his, effectively removing his grip on her coat. "No," she said with begrudging acceptance, but she was smiling. What a drama queen. Peter loved her so much. Gwen nodded toward Flash. "But, I don't know. I kind of like him."

Now it was Peter's turn to roll his eyes. They started walking, hand in hand, and Peter only swung their hands a little bit in his excitement. "So what are you working on?"

"It's classified."

"Cool. Can I help?"

…

…

"I'm just saying," Peter commented a week later, trying to keep his tone light, "maybe I don't need a bodyguard anymore."

There was no answer from the brunette to his left. Harry's entire attention seemed focused on the video game on the giant TV screen in front of them, his fingers flying to press the correct buttons or move the control stick in just the right way. The war game he was playing, Peter didn't know which it was actually, had lost Peter's attention since Harry started playing the single player story mode.

Peter shrugged his shoulders. "I mean. It's been, what, a month since Flash started following me around and the most he's done is keep me back from petty crimes or car accidents. No one has tried to hurt me or kidnap me or do anything to _me_."

Again, even several long moments after Peter stopped speaking, there was no response. Things were blowing up on screen, people shouting orders or dying, communications and mission specifications blinking on and then off so fast there was barely time to read them. Peter sighed and sunk further into the couch cushions.

"Corporate espionage."

Peter startled at the quiet words from Harry's mouth. "Wh-what?"

Without looking away from the video game and barely moving his mouth, Harry continued. "There are dozens of competing corporations around both the United States and the world who would love to see OsCorp fall. Capturing or injuring you would be one of the most surefire ways of causing an internal structural break in the system."

"But, I'm not-," Peter struggled. "How?"

Sure, he and Harry hung out every few days and texted or called each other (or, Harry called and texted Peter) pretty regularly, and Peter had worked briefly with Dr. Connors, but Peter hardly considered himself important enough that he could bring down an entire corporate giant.

Harry grunted at the same time his character on screen was shot, the screen turning red to show how injured he was. "It may surprise you, Peter, but I don't have many friends," he said, his voice more bitter than Peter expected. "The few friends I do have, I hold very dear. If any of OsCorp's competitors have two brain cells to rub together, they'll know that you are one of those dear friends. That makes you a target." The bitterness was completely gone on his next sentence. "Add to that you're impressive skills in the field of science technology and biology, and Peter, you would be an excellent addition to any business's science department."

He paused the game in the middle of throwing some form of bomb and turned to face Peter directly. Harry Osborn was not a physically imposing man by any stretch of the imagination, but he had a presence that made others sit back and recognize that he had the power in the situation. The combination of 'unassuming' and 'powerful' was great for a businessman. If his father died, OsCorp would fall into good hands.

"I know you don't like having a bodyguard, but I find it essential," the young billionaire continued. "An attack from a competitor could happen at any time. Besides that, as you said, Mr. Thompson has already protected you from smaller incidents in which you could have been injured. We live in New York. Something is bound to happen. I would rather Mr. Thompson, or a bodyguard of some sort, be at your side in case of a sudden emergency than not." He flashed Peter a smile that was utterly disarming. "I would never forgive myself if you were hurt, especially if it was simply to get to me. Not if there was something I could do to prevent it."

Peter gaped at Harry. Did he say Harry would be a great businessman? He meant perfect businessman. He literally had no good comeback for that argument.

If Peter had been normal, the times when Flash had protected him would have simply been good work on Flash's part rather than an inconvenience for Spider-Man. Harry was right that rival companies could attack Harry, in any direct _or_ indirect way, at any time. And Peter could hardly say he would never get hurt when, right this very moment, there was a bruise on his left shoulder blade from fighting crime last night after Flash left him alone. And that last part, with the smile? Sealing the deal.

"So will you humor me, Peter?" Harry asked, sounding perfectly innocent. "Let me use my riches to protect you. For my sake, if not for yours?"

It took Peter a moment to even manage to nod, and when he did it was sort of spastic. But Harry smiled and seemed to like Peter's weird quirks, so it was alright. "Y-yeah. Sure. I'll...Flash can stay."

The billionaire clapped Peter on the shoulders with a big smile. "Excellent! Now, how about I save this game and we move on to something we can enjoy together? Maybe one of those new competitive sport games, since neither of us is very athletic in real life, hm?"

Peter smiled. "Sounds great."

...

...

Flash was waiting downstairs when Peter left Harry two hours later. He was slightly damp so either he'd walked through a light drizzle or he'd taken a shower at the gym and put his clothes on before he was fully dry. He raised a hand to greet Peter but was otherwise silent as they left Harry's lavish home.

After walking for ten minutes in silence, Peter was about to ask what was up, because Flash was never this solemn. He was beaten to the quick, though, by Flash speaking first.

"Listen, Parker," he said, then hesitated.

For a moment, Peter wondered if Flash somehow knew he'd tried to get him fired. He quickly shook the thought off though. There was no way. Or maybe Flash had figured out Peter's secret? He'd put together the fact that Spider-man now only worked at night or when Flash left Peter's side. Or he'd seen something in Peter's bag somehow and knew. Peter's pulse began to race, his muscles tensed for fight or flight, his mind already trying to come up with alibis or excuses.

"I wanted to thank you."

It felt like his brain had short circuited. Peter tripped on nothing and fell forward. Before he could right himself on his own - as perfect balance was one of his spider abilities - Flash's arms had grabbed him. The added pressure on his shoulders helped Peter's brain to catch up to what had just happened.

He shook his head as Flash pulled his hands back. "Thank me for what?" he asked, confused.

Flash ran a hand over his head and focused on looking around for possible threats instead of at Peter. "For...letting me guard you, I guess."

Peter still didn't understand. Shouldn't it be the other way around? Peter thanking Flash for doing such a good job guarding him?

Flash sighed. "I was at the gym and I saw this lady cancel her membership because she said she'd lost her job and couldn't afford it anymore. And then I was on my way back to get you and I saw this guy in a suit walk up to this diner, but then turn and walk away because the sign in the window said 'Position Filled.' Or at least, I think that's why." He shrugged. "I guess what I'm trying to say is, I don't know where I'd be if I didn't have this gig. I was running pretty tight on cash before I got the call, so I'm glad you haven't gotten me fired yet."

Guilt hit Peter in the gut like a wrecking ball. Getting shot hadn't hurt like this. Because what had Peter _literally_ just been doing? And now Flash was thanking him?

Peter had been so intent on his own situation, his own troubles, that he hadn't thought about what this job meant to Flash. He'd thought it was just a job. He'd thought Flash didn't like working as his bodyguard, but he'd been wrong. People all over needed work, and yet he was actively trying to put Flash out a job. And hadn't Flash mentioned the other day how Harry was also paying for his college courses because of this job too? He and Flash were, well, if not friends, then amicable acquaintances. He shouldn't be trying to ruin Flash like this.

"No-No problem," Peter said with a slight nod. "You...do a great job."

Something between a smirk and a smile lifted Flash's lips. "Thanks, Parker." Then his lips lowered into a light frown. "Now don't go getting all mushy on me. I don't do hugs and stuff."

Peter managed a little smile of his own. "Wouldn't dream of it." He motioned down the street as he inhaled. "So...Are you taking me home now then?"

"Unless you had somewhere else you needed to go," Flash said, falling into a more professional tone.

A shake of the head. "No. No. Just home."

"Then yeah. I'm taking you home."

The trip to Peter's house wasn't too long, and Peter and Flash actually had a really nice conversation about exercise and being healthy the entire way there - with Flash completely in favor of daily rigorous workouts and proving himself to be a health nut while Peter admitted to loving frozen mac 'n' cheese on a regular basis and never visiting a gym in his life. That had Flash swearing to drag Peter to one someday, while hitting Peter's bicep and complaining that "No one who doesn't work out should have arms like this."

Peter really didn't need the workout, and he doubted any of the machines could give him a challenge, but maybe he would take Flash up on his offer for training, if only to make his muscles more believable.

…

…

_tbc_


	3. Chapter 3

After two hours spent playing sports – both on a TV and in a fantastic virtual reality room, Harry and Peter had spent time geeking out over new discoveries in space exploration and biochemical engineering. It was times like this that made Peter glad that he and Harry were friends.

 

Gwen was a scientist, but even she got tired of listening to Peter talk about science sometimes. She said that she spent enough time at work talking about it and that when she wasn’t there, sometimes talking ‘shop’ was a bit too much. They’d had wonderful conversations about cross species genetics and DNA manipulation and disease prevention, but…Peter couldn’t explain it. There was just something different about talking with Harry than with Gwen.

 

He wasn’t into the same sciences as Peter. Or rather, he had a much more varied interest. Peter focused on biological sciences and technology. Harry had his fingers in everything from chemistry to physics to psychology to engineering to anything else. It made sense. He was the son of the CEO of a huge scientific corporation. He had to have at least a basic knowledge of what each department worked on. Still, he was so passionate about everything he knew that Peter would gladly listen to him explain theories all day.

 

So they’d played games and talked science, and then Harry had treated Peter to dinner.

 

“I could have Frank fetch Mr. Thompson from his lessons,” Harry offered magnanimously when Peter seemed reluctant to accept the dinner. “Maybe sharing a meal would make this whole arrangement easier for you to accept. You know, if you spent more…quality time together. I know you hate that I make you keep a bodyguard.”

 

Peter shook his head. “No no, it’s-it’s going fine,” Peter assured him. It was weird to imagine Harry and Flash being friendly to one another. “Besides, Flash’d probably just get bored or confused if we talked about science or whatever.”

 

Harry had merely shrugged and accepted it. Then he must’ve made some signal Peter didn’t see because suddenly the kitchen staff were entering the room with their meals in a move too planned to be coincidence.

 

…

…

 

_It’s going fine._

 

That’s what Peter said four hours ago. Now he was back to the position where the word ‘bodyguard’ left a bad taste in his mouth. That position was half sandwiched between two cars after barely arriving in time to stop a major accident.

 

Pushing the front end of the one car away from the back end of the other, Peter took a deep breath. Both drivers scrambled to get out of their vehicles, and people in the cars around them had their phones out already, traffic having come to a stop to watch the scene of the almost-accident where Spider-man had appeared.

 

The driver of the car that had almost collided with another opened his mouth – probably to apologize, given the stricken look on his face – but Peter was zipping off into the night again before he could hear a word. Sometimes he liked to stick around, but the driver that had almost been hit had looked livid and Peter really didn’t have the energy to deal with that right now.

 

Already tonight, Peter had stopped the robbery of a corner market, a mugging, and that car accident. None of them had been anywhere near the others, and Peter had covered most of his usual beat by now. He supposed he could head home…

 

“It’s like I’m complaining there’s no crime to fight tonight,” he said to himself as he clung to the side of a building, trying to decide whether to go left toward home or right to patrol for more crimes to stop. “I must really be losing my mind.”

 

Before the afternoon with Harry, Peter had been with Flash. He’d seen a woman about to walk into the street, head down and looking at her phone, and had quickly shot webbing at her and tugged her back out of the road just as cars began zooming past.

 

Flash had looked at her when she yelped at the tug, but Peter had released the web almost at the same moment he’d pulled at her, so there was nothing connecting him to the act. Seeing the web, Flash had spent the next solid minute searching the buildings around them for a glimpse of Spider-man, and Peter had pretended to look with him.

 

That was all the heroics Peter had been able to do during the day. And that was probably why he was so disconcerted with the lack of crime he’d found tonight.

 

He was trying to make up for his lack in the daylight with his work in the night and was upset when he didn’t find enough to settle the debt.

 

Letting out a sigh, Peter murmured orders to himself, “Go home. Get some sleep. The minute you doze off is usually the minute there’s a train crash or a giant lizard climbing a building or something.”

 

With a stern nod, also to himself, Peter shot his webbing left and began to head for home, and his bed.

 

…

…

 

It was a rare night that Peter didn’t go out as Spider-Man these days, but sometimes the occasion called for it.

 

“Anthony! Good evening,” Aunt May’s delighted voice rang from downstairs.

 

Peter grinned, tossed his sketchpad to the mattress, and raced down the stairs. He practically jumped every step to get there faster. Standing in the front room of the homely Parker residence stood Anthony Stark, New York’s very own Iron Man.

 

“Tony!” Peter greeted with a broad grin.

 

Tony looked up from complimenting Aunt May about something or other and returned the grin. “Well if it isn’t the boy wonder,” he said. “I hear you’ve got yourself a powerful new friend.”

 

The expression on Peter’s face dimmed a little. “Yeah. Harry’s been great. A little overprotective, but a great guy.”

 

“Uh-oh, that sounds ominous,” Tony responded. “Sounds like a story to have over pie.”

 

He led the way into the kitchen where Aunt May had two apple pies set out, baked just that morning for this occasion. Tony had been colleagues of Peter’s parents. He’d funded several of their non-governmental projects just because he could and he’d even attended their wedding. When Peter was born, Tony was named as his godfather.

 

The reasoning behind that decision had baffled Peter for years. Sure, Tony was rich and a friend, but he had been so wild back then, so unreliable. Peter had read the articles on Tony, spanning years back, when his aunt and uncle had told him about his relation to the weapons mogul. He’d been so upset that someone so reckless and dangerous could, whenever the desire arose, barge into his life and ruin it, take him away from his family.

 

Over time, Peter had learned that, since his parents hadn’t designated it in their will, Tony actually _couldn’t_ remove him from his aunt and uncle’s custody without going through a lot of hassle. He’d also realized that Tony really didn’t give two farts in a decontamination room about Peter or his remaining family. They got a generic card at Christmas, but that was about all the contact Tony Stark deigned to give them. Peter had been okay with that, if annoyed.

 

Then Tony went missing in a desert. Then Iron Man happened.

 

Like he’d suddenly woken up, Tony began to contact the Parker family. Uncle Ben was gone by then, and when he heard about it Tony made a lot of outrageous offers that both Aunt May and Peter had to decline. Then Tony simply became part of their lives. Peter got gifts on his birthday and Christmas, Tony stopped by once a month to have a meal with them, and he’d given Peter a phone with every number conceivably connected to Tony already programmed in just in case Peter ever wanted to contact him.

 

He got a lot of texts via Jarvis about random thoughts running through Tony’s head, or quizzing him about math and science. “Gotta keep that brain wizzing somehow, don’t we?”

 

Or random questionable life advice like, “Never drink and fly because you wake up in Africa surrounded by meerkats” or “My dad never would’ve let me become a lifeguard, and god I’d probably have choked myself by now if I’d ever actually tried, but sometimes I still envy those Bay Watch hotties. But, and the point is, don’t take a job just because it looks easy. You don’t want to surround yourself with stupid people that would push you under the water to keep their heads above it just because it looks easier than actually studying.”

 

Well, that last one might be good advice but it was badly worded. That wasn’t the point. Tony had been half asleep on the couch in Aunt May’s living room and Peter and he hadn’t even been talking when he suddenly burst out with it. It had scared Peter more than the movie they were meant to be watching.

 

By now, two years into his closer relationship, Tony was practically blood family to Peter. Tony didn’t know about Spider-Man, but he knew all about Gwen and Uncle Ben and college and the Bugle.

 

“Wait, so your ex-bully is now supposed to be your bodyguard?” Tony asked, appalled. “How is that safe?”

 

Peter pushed pie around on his plate and looked at the cabinets to his right rather than at his godfather. “Flash isn’t a bully anymore. He and I actually almost became friends in our senior year. And he’s really good at his job.”

 

Perhaps a bit _too_ good. Peter was having more and more difficulty slipping off into some corner to discreetly save the day when Flash was around and something bad happened. Still, a good bodyguard was a good bodyguard. Peter just didn’t need one.

 

“I think it’s great,” Aunt May chipped in. “Eugene is really a nice young man. He’s even brought me flowers a few times when he picks Peter up in the morning.”

 

Tony snorted softly. “A real smooth operator, huh?” He stuffed the last bit of pie on his plate into his mouth and hummed. “I think I know a real American patriot who would die if he got to taste your apple pie.”

 

Now it was Peter’s turn to laugh. “I think Captain America could handle it.”

 

A shake of the head. “No, no. It’d be too much American spirit in one place and he’d literally implode.” He smiled at Aunt May. “Got an extra pie I can take home?”

 

Aunt May gently slapped his arm, which he pretended actually hurt. “Don’t even joke about killing someone with my cooking, Anthony.” She huffed but wasn’t actually mad. “I get enough of that from Peter about his own stomach.”

 

“Aunt May,” Peter whined. It sounded childish, but really, he hadn’t complained about her cooking since he got bitten.

 

Well, her meatloaf was awful, and he wasn’t even sure how she managed to mess up oatmeal but she did, and really her spaghetti needed some spices because it was kind of bland. But when he’d gone all day without eating because he’d missed lunch due to Spider-Man duties, any food tasted like heaven. And her baking skills were out of this world. She made wonderful casseroles too.

 

Peter was pulled out of his mental tangent when Tony’s chuckles died out.

 

“But honestly, I’m gonna check this bodyguard out. Eugene Thompson, you said?” he asked, getting back to their previous subject. He already had his phone out and was tapping away.

 

Peter groaned. “No, please, don’t. Harry already did that.”

 

Tony clucked. “Harry was looking for an attack dog. I’ll be checking to see if it’s likely to turn on its charge.”

 

“Tony,” Peter said, his voice turning serious. He knew the instant he had Tony’s full attention. “Don’t get him fired. Flash isn’t a bad guy.”

 

"You've known this guy as your bully for most of your life, kid. And you're going to defend him after being on good terms with him for, like, what, two years? Not even?"

 

"I've only had a relationship with you for two years, not even, and I don't see you calling our relationship into question," Peter pointed out. Because it was true. His relationship with both men had changed for the better after he got his powers. The timeline was the same.

 

"Small fry, I call all my relationships into question on a daily basis. Anyone who puts up with me is a saint, but also crazier than hell. They're all making a terrible decision being in my life, honestly." Tony shook his head. "But this isn't about me. This is about some wet nosed pup playing mother hen to my little Easter egg. I gotta at least hack his Facebook."

 

"Don't- Leave his Facebook alone. He's not dangerous," Peter assured. Then he shrugged. “Besides, I can handle him.”

 

A huff from Tony’s side of the table. “You’d better be sure of that, kid. If it turns out he _is_ bad news, you have my number and I have fourteen automated suits ready to take him out.”

 

“You also have fourteen phone numbers,” Peter retorted blandly, earning him another grin.

 

…

…

 

A woman dressed to the nines in an outfit made to look like feathers waved out at the crowds of people while boys and girls stood around her with baskets of goodies.

 

_Click! Click!_

 

A girl scout troop marched by – older girls in teal and younger girls in brown. Their badges practically shone in the sun even though they were made of cloth and not metal. A few darted around, joyfully handing treats to other kids standing at the edge of the road.

 

_Click! Click! Click!_

 

The CEO of a car company rode in the open back of the company’s newest convertible, a woman made up like a queen sitting next to him.

 

_Click!_

 

“Now that’s what I’m talking about,” Flash commented, pointing at the next group to come around the corner.

 

Peter followed his finger and saw the Spider-Man themed float. Along the side of the float hung a banner that read “Brooklyn Spider-Man Official Fan Club” in red and blue, of course. All of the people standing on the float were dressed as Spider-Man – or one of the villains Spider-Man had brought to justice. They even had silly string web shooters attached to their wrists that they used to spray cheering New York citizens with as they passed by. A few of the villains were tossing Spider-Man themed t-shirts out to people waving their hands.

 

The float itself looked like a nest of spider webs, but done up in the homey, charming manner of Charlotte’s Web and not like Arachnophobia. The people on the float not tossing string or t-shirts were managing signs proclaiming things like ‘Spider-Man Saves City’ or ‘Friendly-Neighborhood Spider-Man’ with the word ‘friendly’ bolded and glittering or ‘We Love Spider-Man.’

 

_Click! Click! Click!_ went Peter’s camera lens.

 

One of the pictures caught a girl turning around, and Peter saw that her sign read ‘The Bugle is Wrong!’ He stopped taking pictures.

 

Flash seemed to have noticed the sign at the same time as Peter, because his silence took on a different tone and he seemed to tense at Peter’s side.

 

After a float for race cars and the local equestrian club had ridden by, Flash cleared his throat. “Why do you work for the Bugle?”

 

He must’ve intended for it to be a casual question, but the accusation was still there. Peter adjusted the lens on his camera to catch a picture of a kid across the street waving an American flag before the next group got in the way.

 

“They let me in without any experience and help pay my bills,” he said blandly.

 

‘Helped’ was the operative word there. In no world could the commission Jameson paid him be enough to make a living from, but since he was still living with his aunt, the help was nice. Usually they only wanted him to be around the city looking for Spider-Man, but sometimes, like today, he was requested to do actual photo journalism type work.

 

Flash made a clicking noise with his tongue. “I can’t imagine working somewhere where you have to listen to that jerk talk about Spider-Man like that all day.”

 

That morning, Peter had gone in to give Jameson pictures of Spider-Man. Luckily, Flash had stayed out of the room and hadn’t seen the pictures or he would’ve been upset to learn Peter had gone out last night without him. Also luckily, Flash was paid to keep track of Peter only during certain hours, so turning these in for publishing wouldn’t get Flash in trouble with Harry.

 

Still, Flash had been close enough to the office to hear Jameson shouting about the evils of Spider-Man and cursing another photographer for not getting him good enough shots of the vigilante and threatening to fire someone else because they’d written an article in defense of Spider-Man. Sitting there with his jacket zipped up over his newest Spider-Man themed shirt, Flash had looked absolutely livid when Peter had exited the office with his pay.

 

“He’s not…always like that,” Peter tried to defend weakly.

 

He was only like that about 95% of the time. Then again, Peter only entered the office to bring pictures, and the pictures were usually about Spider-Man, so maybe he just only saw Jameson when Spider-Man was the topic and he was usually a very mild mannered man.

 

Yeah, and Peter was a ballerina.

 

Flash waved a hand dismissively. “I still would’ve punched him in the face by now.”

 

Peter let out a scoff. “You would’ve been fired at best or thrown in jail at worst. Mr. Jameson is unpredictable like that.”

 

“He’s thrown you in jail?” Flash asked, sounding just as angry as he’d looked this morning.

 

“What?” Peter looked up from his camera at Flash’s burning eyes. “No! Do I look like I punch people? He threatened someone with it once but I’ve never actually heard of him doing it. I wasn’t serious.”

 

Flash calmed immediately and then took a deep breath. After a few minutes more, and a float involving something about camels, he spoke again.

 

“Do you think they’re right?”

 

Peter looked at the signs on the float. “That smoking kills?” he asked.

 

A shake of the head. “No. The Bugle. Do you think they’re right about Spider-Man?”

 

Turning his attention away from the parade entirely, Peter met Flash’s eyes. “I took pictures for his fan club senior year,” he reminded.

 

Flash frowned. “And now you take pictures for the rag that shits all over him. That obviously don’t mean shit, Parker. Now answer the question.”

 

Still staring directly into Flash’s eyes, Peter said, “No,” like it was the only word that mattered. “Mr. Jameson thinks Spider-Man is a menace. So did Gwen’s dad at first. But he’s just trying to do what he can to help this city. He’s trying to do what’s right. Despite anything else, that’s always been true.”

 

He could see every thought that went through Flash’s head broadcast on his face and in his eyes. Nostalgia. Perhaps he was remembering how Peter had liked his Spider-Man shirts back in high school and was glad that hadn’t changed. Relief. He was glad that he wasn’t guarding someone who hated his favorite hero. He wouldn’t have quit over the disagreement, but he would’ve hated this job a lot more. Happiness. He and Peter shared an opinion on something that was fundamental to the man Flash was and wanted to be in the future.

 

“Good. That’s good,” Flash said with a smile. Then he pointed back at the parade. “You’re missing the endangered species float.”

 

And in that moment, it felt like maybe that almost-friendship from high school had finally clicked into place and lost the ‘almost.’

...

...

tbc


	4. Chapter 4

The city at night was never dark. Paris may be called the City of Lights but New York did not concede that fight easily. Usually Peter liked to admire the neon and glam that shone from every street. It made his city special and also kept spotting criminals relatively easy.

But tonight? Well, more than just tonight, really. Recently, he wished all the lights would go out. He wanted a black out without the added crime that always came with one. The usually beautiful glow of the city made his head ache, and all he wanted to do was close his eyes and block it out.

Forehead pounding, he managed to foil one attempted store robbery and two muggings before he could barely focus and decided to head for home. He'd been out most of the night just finding those few cases, and he suspected his drowsiness was affecting his usually keen senses. On a normal night, he'd have found twice as many people to help.

Oh well. He had class and work the next day anyway. He needed to sleep. Ah. Lately he was even forgetting what that word meant. He was not meant to be nocturnal, dude. The trip home, something he knew in his distant dreams and could find blindfolded, was accompanied by a welcome familiarity. With his head thrumming, he didn't want to think, and he didn't have to on the way home.

Except he let go of his web a moment too soon because of his lack of thought and found himself smacking into a fire escape. Gasping in air after that metal punch to the gut, he groaned and used the rail to steady himself.

"Spider-man?" a woman asked, poking her head further out her window beside him. She had a smoking blunt in her hand but had forgotten it the moment he'd landed. "You alright?"

"Yep. Right as rain. No problems here," Peter replied, straightening up to show how uninjured he was, even if his gut still ached.

The woman took a quick drag, something unconscious, and then shook her head. "Man, don't work yourself to death. The city ain't worth your life, you know. Go home and get some sleep before you impale yourself on some scaffolding."

"Thanks. I'll keep that in mind. Have a great night." Embarrassed and no less tired, Peter leapt into the darkness and continued toward home. Great. Now random citizens could tell he was tired. How long until criminals got the memo?

At long last, he swung through his bedroom window and peeled off his suit. He didn't even bother hiding it, just threw it haphazardly toward his closet, before dropping onto his bed face first. Rolling seemed like such a chore, but he did it anyway, moving to lie on his back and avoid hurting his neck while he rested.

The clock on the wall read 4:20 and he almost sobbed out loud. As it was, he just groaned, long and low. He had to be up in an hour to prepare for school. Covering his face, he willed himself to sleep even for just a moment. He tried to clear his head, but all he could focus on was the thump thump thump of the blood rushing through his temples and sending little aching waves throughout his brain. No amount of massaging or darkness seemed to help.

"Peter!" He heard the shout from the other side of his door and this time he really did let out a sob of a noise. "Peter, it's five thirty! Time to get up, sleepy head! Don't be late!"

How did time pass so fast when he was so tired? How had he been massaging his temples for an hour and not gotten any relief?!

Summoning all the strength he had, Peter wrenched himself out of bed and clumsily pulled on an outfit for the day, his spider suit on underneath, just in case. Maybe he should just start sleeping in it at this rate. Then he stumbled down to the kitchen, where he found migraine medication and popped those pills like they were from a pez dispenser.

"Eggs are done," Aunt May announced just as he'd finished putting the medication away. "Ready for another exciting day in the city?"

"Ecstatic," Peter answered, trying to sound genuine when he meant it completely sarcastic. This whole bodyguard thing was going to be the death of him.

…

…

Being friends with the person you were guarding made guarding them easier, in Flash's opinion. He could trust that, when he said to move, Peter would either move immediately or move with very little convincing and not get angry about being told what to do. They could discuss when to do activities Peter liked and when to do activities that Flash liked without fighting about it, a give and take relationship so that the actual guarding felt less like a job and more like just two guys hanging out.

Mostly, being friends with Peter meant they could have actual conversations without worrying that they were pissing each other off. When Flash once got Peter to sit around while Flash played a two-on-two game of basketball with some of his old high school friends, he'd asked Peter what he thought about the game later. Peter had been honest with him.

"Hank still cheats," he'd muttered. "And, I mean, Flash, you should've teamed up with Carl, not Marcus."

"Hey, Marcus was practically my co-captain in high school," Flash had countered.

With a roll of his eyes and a small groan, Peter had waved his hands around and said, "I know. That's the whole point. I don't even know basketball all that much and I know-I mean Carl-he's-he can't-And you know that and Marcus too and maybe if you had, Hank wouldn't've had to cheat because-"

Flash had interrupted with, "Carl sucks and you think me and him should've been a team cause I'm the best of the four of us. The team's would've been evener and the game more of a match than a slaughter."

Looking relieved that Flash understood him, Peter had nodded. "Yeah. Yeah, I-That's what I think."

Flash wasn't upset about that. In fact, he was happy about it because that meant Peter thought he was good at basketball and because it meant that Peter, for all his hiding behind a camera and a skateboard, understood a sport that had been important to Flash for most of his adolescent life. Flash wondered when Peter had learned the rules of the game, when he had the chance to realize Hank liked to cheat, and if his learning those things had anything to do with Flash.

When Peter had realized that Flash was having trouble in his college class, he hadn't teased him. Okay, he'd teased, but it had been the kind that friends do, not the mean kind that bullies do – not the kind Flash had done in school despite his own failing grades, or perhaps _because_ of them. And when the teasing was done, Peter had offered to help Flash study like it was the next natural response. So, after classes let out, instead of taking Peter home or to get food or whatever they felt like doing that day, they would find a relatively quiet spot in Washington Square Park and study. Flash was constantly amazed at how intense Peter looked while he was doing work for his classes, and yet he would seamlessly divide his attention between whatever he was doing and helping Flash. The attention made Flash feel warm inside, like winning a game but without the adrenaline. Happy.

"I have to do something to pay you back for this," Flash had said after the third time Peter helped him with his college homework.

Yawning, Peter then responded, "Don't worry about it, Flash."

Shaking his head, Flash said, "No. You're helping me out when I'm supposed to be doing a job." He clapped his hands together once. "I've got it. The gym. I'll help you work out. I'm getting tons of training from OsCorp and I've been on sports teams most of my life, so I know what I'm doing. I'll help you train your muscles in return for the training of my mind."

Peter had looked ready to argue the point, so Flash made his face as puppy excited as he could. It had never worked on his parents, but it had skewed teacher opinions in his favor more than once. In that moment, Flash realized it worked its magic just as well on Peter Parker, because Peter's expression became contemplative for the briefest of moments before he caved.

Letting out a deep sigh, Peter shrugged. "Okay. Why not? It's a date."

Flash frowned slightly. That was not a word Flash used lightly because of how little he actually dated, and Peter wasn't using it seriously... which just made the little knotting in Flash' stomach all the more ridiculous. But Flash reined in any unusually passionate responses, because he knew Peter didn't mean it as an insult or a promise.

"It's not a date, Parker. It's….It's more like an appointment with a personal trainer." The smile began to curve his lips up again. "Now pick a day. We gotta work or you're gonna lose all those muscles you gained in high school."

Peter chuckled. "I'm not sure that's gonna be a problem."

Somehow, a week later, he still hadn't picked a day for their gym appointment.

The only downside to being friends with Peter now, it seemed, was that Flash cared more about whether Peter was in danger or hurt. Sure, he'd cared before, but that was his job and simply one human not wanting to watch another human suffer. And sure, back in high school, Flash had been growing a stupid school-boy crush on the photographer, but after they graduated that infatuation had faded. And that infatuation had never stopped Flash from inflicting pain on Peter himself... but now Flash was different. Peter was different. And it was Flash's job to keep Peter safe, but this sort of caring was beyond that. It was beyond Flash's unhealthy, creepy crush from high school.

Now Flash _worried_. To be frank, he was becoming a mother hen.

When they were done studying, Flash insisted they eat because he realized how many hours it must've been since Peter had anything nutritious. He insisted on a thicker jacket whenever there was a chill. He stood close whenever Peter walked or sat on the edge of something, just in case he stumbled or fell. When he said goodbye to Peter in the evenings, he told him to get a good night's rest.

Maybe he should've insisted on that last one more, because every day, Flash swore Peter looked more tired than the one before. He still did his school work with the same passion and kept up his side of their conversations, but he liked to lie around in the sun and close his eyes like a cat and he swayed while walking on flat ground. Not to mention the bags under his eyes.

These thoughts kept Flash occupied while he watched Peter walking beside him that afternoon. He glanced around for dangers, taking note of the people walking past them and keeping track of anyone who looked like they might cause trouble, but his main concern was Peter. Peter's grip on his bag strap was so tight his knuckles were almost white and his eyes were so wide that Flash thought it had gone past awareness and straight into sleep walking.

The crosswalk ahead of them was red but only a few people had gathered so far. If the crosswalk had said to go, Flash would've shoved them out of the way, but as it was he just stopped next to a guy with curly red hair and bright green eyes. He'd barely exchanged an acknowledging nod with the guy when Flash noticed that Peter hadn't stopped with him. Instead, he'd just stepped off the sidewalk and into traffic.

"Peter!" Flash shouted, panic striking through him like lightning at the sight of the cars still whizzing past.

He hurried forward, grabbed Peter by the collar of his shirt with one hand, and jerked him back out of the way just as a car passed where Peter used to be standing, horn blaring the entire time. Flash watched it go with his heart beating in his throat.

Flash was aware of Peter's hands coming up to Flash's sides, his fingers brushing Flash's arms. "Flash? Thanks for-for pulling me back. You can…let go now."

One of Flash's hands was around the back of Peter's neck – the one that had pulled him back by the collar of his shirt. The other arm was wrapped around Peter's midsection, holding Peter's smaller body against his larger one protectively.

The guy with red hair was staring at them oddly. Flash shot him a glare that said 'Mind your own business' and released Peter.

"That was…," Peter let out a rush of breath. "That was a bit intense, wasn't it?"

All of Flash's anger redirected from the nosy, judgy red head onto his charge. "You could've been killed, Pete," he snapped.

"I know," Peter said in a small voice, hunching his shoulders. "But I wasn't."

"That's not the point. What is up with you? You're so tired you're sleep walking into traffic!"

Peter cast his eyes around, mostly on the ground between them. The traffic light changed and everyone gathered at the crosswalk began to move, but Peter and Flash stayed where they were.

"I…I'm doing this….uh, but also-And then there's-"

 _What the hell_ , Flash thought, _Parker is so tired he can't even think of an excuse. Why is he so tired lately?_ He couldn't stay mad at someone who was as clearly exhausted as Peter was, even if it did make his job harder.

He shook his head. "Look, just get more sleep and watch what you're doing and where you are, okay?" And he held Peter by the shoulders to make sure his message was getting through those glasses into Peter's thick skull.

A jerky nod in response, then a slow grin. "But isn't that _your_ job?" Peter said, teasing. "Watching me?"

Flash snorted. "My job is keeping you safe from threats. I would like it if you weren't a threat to yourself, Parker." He ruffled Peter's hair, causing Peter to whine low in his throat and try to fix it when Flash pulled his hand back. "If we don't get moving, you're gonna be late to meet Harry, for video games or plotting to take over the world or whatever it is you two nerds do when you hang out."

Looking up through his hair, his brown eyes striking in a way Flash usually didn't notice, Peter said, "Oh, plotting to take over the world. Obviously."

...

...

It's a really strange experience, flying through the city. It's even stranger when you wake up to find yourself flying through the city, because you shouldn't be able to sleep and fly at the same time.

Peter came to slowly. The feel of the wind against his body was so normal to him now that it was more calming that startling. Before he could remember why he was out in the city instead of home in his bed, the world shuddered and the wind stopped blowing through his hair, though he felt he was still moving.

Opening his eyes, Peter saw the famous Iron Man armor. He shifted his head a little to look up, just in time to watch the armor pull and fold away from Tony Stark's face.

"Ah," the red and gold suited man said, glancing down at him while he continued to walk, "look who decided to wake up. You know, I thought I was reckless, but fighting crime while sleeping? That's something else. I might have to give you a medal for that."

"Iron Man?" Peter said, his brain finally fully waking up. "Why am I-?"

Tony shrugged, finally inside. He walked over to a rounded couch and deposited Peter on it. "You see, I'm not usually one for getting involved in the business of other superheroes, but then I'm flying back to the Tower after defeating evil and I see a really strange sight: Spider-Man getting his rear end handed to him by a couple of common thugs."

As he spoke, the Iron Man suit was detaching itself from Tony's body and flying over to an open closet to store itself. Peter used the back of the couch to sit up and watch as Tony moved toward the bar at the other end of the room.

"Only when I stepped in to help stop your demise, because it would have been a pitiful way to go, did I realize you were losing because you were sleeping." Tony grabbed a glass and started looking around for what to drink.

Peter frowned at the disappointed tone in Tony's voice. "I didn't mean to fall asleep," he countered. "What, you've never gotten tired fighting crime?"

Tony snorted. "Not so tired that I fell asleep mid-fight. That's a child's mistake."

"Hey!" Peter shouted, jumping over the back of the couch to stand level with Tony. "That's not fair!"

"Whatever," Tony waved him off, pouring an amber liquid into his glass. "You don't seem to be hurt, so you can leave."

Peter let out a noise similar to a growl. Tony was pretty great when they met as Tony and Peter, but as Iron Man and Spider-Man he was antagonistic? They were both heroes. Heck, Peter could claim that he did more good fighting villains than Tony since Tony only seemed to fight big name villains.

 _"If you would like,"_ Jarvis spoke from somewhere, _"I could ensure Mr. Parker's safe return home by calling for a car."_

The suggestion was met with silence as both Peter and Tony's eyes widened. Peter couldn't find the strength to move a single muscle while Tony lowered his glass to the counter top, his eyes narrowing. Tony didn't like Spider-Man, but he liked Peter. How was he going to react?

"Mr. Parker?" Tony repeated.

 _"Yes,"_ Jarvis responded. _"Voice records are an exact match."_

 _Voice records?_ Peter wondered. Oh, from when he'd visited the Tower previously. Maybe those records were even from other times when he'd been in Tony's presence, the computer program recording everything he said.

When the silence dragged on for several more seconds, Tony looking at his glass instead of at Peter, Peter let out a heavy breath. Then he reached up and pulled off his mask. There was no point in hiding it anyways. Tony looked up at the sound of moving fabric and stared at him - Peter's face on Spider-Man's body.

"Surprise," Peter said, a half-hearted attempt at humor.

Tony blinked at him. Then his lips quirked up into a smirk and he shut his eyes. "Well, I can't say I saw this coming." He picked up his glass and took a long swig.

"You...aren't upset with me?" Peter hedged.

"You aren't my kid," Tony answered. "What you do isn't my business. However..." He walked closer to Peter as he spoke, drink still in hand. "If you aren't going to be smart about it, then you shouldn't be a superhero."

Peter frowned at the older man. "I am smart about it!" he said loudly. "Tonight was an accident. I've been really stressed and on a tight schedule lately."

 _"I believe he means Mr. Thompson,"_ Jarvis interjected helpfully.

"I got it," Tony said with a wave toward no one. He stood almost in Peter's personal space and looked directly into his eyes. "Keep talking."

Peter rolled the fabric of his mask in between his fingers nervously but didn't lower his eyes. "The only time Flash leaves me alone is at night. During the day it's a fight to save people while not being noticed, so I've been doing most of my crime fighting after dark. At first it was fine, but-"

"But now, lack of sleep is getting to you," Tony cut in with a wise nod, like he understood. "You're a growing boy. You need more sleep than an old man like me."

"I would if I could," Peter agreed. "But I can't get Flash fired, he needs this job, and I won't stop being Spider-Man. I have the ability to help people and I'm going to keep doing my best to do so. I'll find a way, no matter what."

Tony's expression leaked irritation until it was coated in pride and he was smiling. Peter didn't quite know what to make of the change. What had he said? Tony took a deep breath and then spun around to walk back toward the bar.

"Well then, as the responsible adult of the two of us," Peter withheld a scoff of disbelief, "there's really only one thing I can do now. Jarvis!"

_"Yes, sir?"_

Tony set his empty glass in an unseen sink and grinned. "Make sure that from now until the foreseeable future that I have Tuesdays and Thursdays free all day. You don't work those days, right, Little League?"

Peter let out a huff of shocked air at the name. "Little-?" He shook his head. "No, I've got classes in the morning though."

"Great. So you can have Mr. Bodyguard bring you here after class and then he can leave."

"What?"

The look Tony passed Peter was one that said 'You're supposed to be a genius.' "What place is safer than Avengers Tower? If you're here, then you won't need a body guard."

Peter thought about it for a moment, sleep still eating at his brain, and then beamed. "Wait. You mean-"

"The perfect cover for any teenage superhero with an overprotective bodyguard," Tony practically sang, looking overly pleased with himself.

Peter almost dropped his mask in his mad dash across the room. The bar was between him and Tony, or else Tony would have had a huge armful of superhero hugs. As it was, Peter grabbed the edge of the bar and beamed at Tony, forcing himself not to just jump over the obstacle.

"Tony, you're the best-the most amazing-the greatest-" He shook his head and tried to actually finish a thought. "Thank you. Thank you so much."

Tony's lips quirked up, pleased at the response. After a few moments where Tony just smiled while Peter practically vibrated in joy, Tony snapped his fingers.

"Yep. Call Happy," he said, glancing at the ceiling briefly. "Tell him to bring his own car, that unfortunate brown _thing_ he won't let me replace. It's the least conspicuous."

_"Already done, sir."_

"What would I do without you, Jarvis?" Tony asked with a fond smile.

_"I sometimes wonder that myself."_

A half an hour car ride later, Peter was back in his bedroom with Aunt May, Flash Thompson, and Harry Osborne none the wiser that he'd ever gone out. And from now on, at least on Tuesdays and Thursdays, Peter could fight crime in the light of day without worrying what Flash might see or do. He could sleep more often!

It was official, Peter decided. Tony was the best superhero godfather ever.

...

...

_tbc_


	5. Chapter 5

When they stepped out of the taxi, Flash's mouth became a permanent fixture on the ground. Peter had refused to tell him where they were headed, only that it was to see his godfather. At first, Flash had commented about how he didn't even know Peter had a godfather, and then it was like a half game of twenty questions.

 

"Is he nice? Does Aunt May like him? What does he do for a living? Has he ever broken the law? Is he dangerous? Do you like him?"

 

to which Peter had tried to be as honest and yet ambiguous in response.

 

"If he likes you, yes. Aunt May loves him. He's a businessman. Undoubtedly. Definitely, but not to me, I swear. He's the best godfather a guy could ask for."

 

So when the taxi finally stopped outside of Avengers Tower, Peter still got the joy of seeing Flash's flabbergasted face. At first, Flash didn't notice where they were heading, assuming they were still going to walk a distance to get to their destination, but when Peter headed straight for the lobby doors, he seemed to panic.

 

"Parker," he hissed to stop Peter's progression. "Where are you going?"

 

"To see my godfather. I told you." Peter feigned innocence, knitting his brow as though he had no idea why Flash was confused.

 

"That's Avenger's Tower," Flash said, pointing at the building and the security guards standing just inside.

 

"Yeah. And the sky is blue." Peter cocked his head to the side. "If we're pointing out obvious things, we can discuss that there are rats in sewers next."

 

Flash jerked his hand to the cement as though ordering Peter to come back. "This is no joke, Parker.  We can't just walk into Avenger's Tower. The Avengers live there. It's like trying to just walk into the White House. You need, like, special clearance and shit."

 

Sighing, Peter walked back to Flash and put an arm around his shoulders. "Flash, just trust me on this one, okay? My godfather heard I got a bodyguard and he really wants to meet you. I promise, we won't get in trouble."

 

With only a little more coaxing, he managed to get Flash in the building. The guards sort of glanced in their direction but then went back to ignoring them. The two college students stepped into the elevator, and Flash looked around for buttons that just didn't exist.

 

"Oh great. Now what?" he asked, looking at Peter for an explanation. But Peter just shrugged unhelpfully and waited.

 

 _"Welcome back, Mr. Parker_ ," Jarvis greeted. " _Mr. Stark is expecting you in the main den._ "

 

"Thank you, Jarvis," Peter said as the elevator began moving.

 

To his right, Flash looked even more stunned than before. He frowned, his forehead creasing. "Mr. Stark?" he asked. "As in THE Tony Stark?"

 

Peter nodded. "He and my dad used to work together back in college or something."

 

"Your godfather is Tony Stark?!" It was nice seeing an outsider's reaction to the relationship. Flash was so in awe of Tony, and it was refreshing to see the young man's attention and approval of superheroes stretched beyond just Spider-Man. Maybe Peter should be jealous. Or... Spider-Man should be jealous.

 

As the elevator rose, Flash made a new effort to ensure his clothes were in order. He was dressed for class, in an old band t-shirt and torn jeans, and apparently he didn't know Tony would actually give him props for the ensemble. Flash even wiped his face as though there could be something on it that he hadn't noticed until now. Not that he needed to worry about that either. His buzzed hair was too short to be out of place, and his mouth, his cheeks, his brow - the only thing on them was his anxiety.

 

Softly, he cursed. "Damn it. I'm not dressed to meet a billionaire," he said, low and under his breath. Then, louder, he said, "You coulda given me some warning, Peter."

 

At the name and the jibe, Peter could only smile. "Yeah, but where's the fun in that?"

 

The comment didn't calm Flash down at all. In fact, it might have made matters worse. Now Flash was glaring at him. Was their new friendship being tested already or could this fall under friendly banter? Despite the glare, Flash's fingers were drumming against his sides with nervous energy. Maybe it was mean to poke a nervous bear, Peter thought. He let Flash stew for another moment more and then decided it was time to cut him some slack.

 

"I told you to trust me, didn't I?" Peter reminded. "Tony doesn't care what you're wearing. I'm honestly more worried he plans to greet us not wearing anything at all. Not that he does that regularly, I mean. I'm just saying... he's, uh... He's made the joke before." Flash now looked skeptical rather than concerned. Good? "Look, I'm just- Just be yourself and you'll be fine. We'll both be alive when it's over." Turning his face away, Peter murmured an extra, "I hope."

 

Then the elevator beeped and the door slid open. Peter motioned for Flash to go first, which the bodyguard did eventually. They walked several steps in, admiring the fireplace, the bar, the lounge seating, and then Peter tensed up.

 

He grabbed Flash around the shoulders and dragged him to the ground just as a wayward piece of armor shot past where their heads used to be. It soared toward the wall before stopping short and turning sharply to make a return trip. When it snapped into place around Tony Stark's hand, Peter jerked back to a standing position, Flash slowly following.

 

"Funny. Who exactly is guarding whom, again?" Tony asked, strolling over with a drink in his un-armored hand.

 

Despite Peter's disapproving look, Tony seemed glib. But it was Flash who spoke next, glancing over Peter with something akin to awe and approval on his face. "Yeah, sometimes I wonder the same thing," he said.  "Thanks, Parker."

 

"Yeah, anytime," Peter said offhandedly, but his stare was still on his godfather.

 

" _My apologies, Mr. Parker. I tried to talk him out of it, but he was beyond persuasion_ ," Jarvis called over the speakers.

 

"Not your fault, Jarvis," Peter called back while Flash turned in a circle and scanned the roof for where the voice had come from this time. Peter took a step toward Tony. "Is that how you greet all the people who come to visit or just the ones you don't like?"

 

Tony shrugged as Flash turned back to the conversation, a slight concern worrying the edges of his eyes. If Tony didn't like him, well he didn't know what he was going to do. What were you supposed to do if Iron Man didn’t like you hanging out with his godson? Resign and flee the city?

 

"Nah. If I didn't like him, I would have trapped him in the elevator. I like to do that to people sometimes. I like to hear their pathetic cries for help." He waved his fingers through the air like the thought was a passing fancy.

 

"Liar," Peter said, an amused smile finally tugging at his lips. Tony smiled back, and for a moment, Flash was a spectator to their new family bond as they simply enjoyed being in each other's company and admired each other's work. Peter was silently admiring the mogul's tech and Tony was secretly admiring Peter's spider sense, and both were just really impressed with the other, even if they wouldn't say it out loud.

 

Eventually, Tony turned away from Peter with an 'ah!' sound and motioned with his glass of whiskey to Flash. "Eugene, is it?" he asked, but before Flash could correct him to his nickname, Tony continued. "I hear you used to be quite the bully. Is that right?"

 

"No, sir," Flash answered reflexively. Then he frowned. "I mean yes, sir. But I don't do that anymore.... Sir."

 

"No, sir. Yes, sir. Starting to sound like I have another Jarvis in here," Tony teased and bumped shoulders with Peter.

 

" _I take offense to that, sir_ ," Jarvis spoke.

 

"Sorry, buddy," Tony said with a nod toward no one before frowning at Flash. "Too bad about that change in profession though. I had hoped to sic you on some bothersome eggheads downstairs."

 

"Uh?" Flash glanced at Peter for backup on how to respond to that, and the slighter man was at his side in a moment, hand on his shoulder for support.

 

"He's kidding," he said, then glanced back at Tony. "You're kidding. Right?"

 

"Sure." Tony shrugged and held his hand out to the side. The gauntlet disengaged and flew off into the halls to find its proper docking station. "So. _Flash_. On a serious note. Peter. How do you feel about him? On a professional level. How important is keeping him safe? Cause I'm pretty fond of him and I'd like to keep him around."

 

Hesitant now of touching Flash, Peter carefully removed his hand from the other's shoulder. But should he really be wary of Flash's answer? They were friends now, weren't they? Surely Flash cared about keeping him safe for more than just his job now, right? Not that Peter needed Flash to protect him most days but... right?

 

The other male glanced to where Peter's hand had been and then up to Peter's face, a thoughtful expression in his eyes, like he was trying to figure out how he'd describe Peter on an exam. "Peter's pretty cool," he said, tearing his eyes away from Peter's and looking at Tony. "I'd keep him safe even if I wasn't being paid for it, if that's why you're worried. Keeping my friends safe is important to me. This just happens to pay really... a lot."

 

So the smile on Peter's face wasn't exactly a surprise, but it still made Flash hesitate. Then he gave a tiny flicker of a smile in return. That was enough for Peter. He clapped Flash on the shoulder again, no worry or hesitation this time.

 

"Aw, gee. Thanks, Flash," he said honestly. "I'd do the same for you."

 

The praise obviously embarrassed Flash, whose cheeks went a little pink. He ducked his head slightly and ran a hand over his buzz cut and mumbled a return, "Thanks." And that was obviously as much cute interaction as Tony could take, because he cleared his throat loudly.

 

"Alright, you pass. Enough of that. Who wants to play basketball at four hundred feet?" Tony turned and headed for the hallway, calling out, "Jarvis!"

 

" _The court is already prepared, Mr. Stark_."

 

"Great news! Come along, boys."

 

As the young men followed several paces behind, Flash let out a low whistle. "He's kind of something," he murmured so Tony wouldn't hear. Not that Tony would probably care.

 

"Yeah. Something sounds about right," Peter agreed with a laugh and a shake of his head. "But I think he likes you."

 

"Cool."

 

As they walked, Peter looked over Flash and considered how crazy and amazing it was that two years ago, Flash Thompson would have been the one pushing him into the sidewalk to watch him bleed, and yet now he was the one saving him from being hit by a car and calling him a friend. It was just beyond belief how drastically things could change when two people took the time to try and actually talk to each other. How awesome would school have been if they had been friends back then?

 

"Hey, Parker," Flash said as Tony entered a new room, talking rapidly to his electronic butler. "Who's Jarvis?"

 

A chuckle left Peter before he could stop it, but he could only look a little sorry about it when Flash looked over at him for an explanation. "That's... Okay, I guess that needs a little explaining."

...

…

 

Wednesday dinner with the Stacy family was nice... if you didn't mind feeling like a child sometimes. Honestly, sometimes Peter felt like he had forgotten how to use a fork and knife when he ate there. They cooked so many foods that were meant to be eaten in some way other than 'cut it and stuff it in your mouth', like Peter was used to. Peter preferred that method. It was tried and true. Except at the Stacy's.

 

But after dinner, after thanking Mrs. Stacy for letting him come and for cooking such a delicious meal, after the brothers had dragged him around for a few minutes before getting absorbed in their phones, after all of that – Peter and Gwen were left alone in her room.

 

Peter hugged a giant beanie pillow to his chest and leaned forward on it while Gwen stretched across her bed and did homework. Usually Peter did homework too, but today his only assignment was to read a chapter in one of his books. No questions, no worksheet, but he would be expected to make at least one helpful comment about it during a discussion in class the next day.

 

His book was lying open on the bed beside Gwen, within easy reading distance for Peter, but he couldn't concentrate on the words. A smile stretched his lips until he couldn't help but draw Gwen's attention with it.

 

"What?" she asked, smiling too. "Why are you smiling like that? I thought you were reading about a war."

 

“Maybe something funny happened,” Peter said.

 

She flicked her eraser at him, and he let it hit him to humor her. “You can’t say things like that about war!” she said, mockingly offended, but her following giggle ruined the routine.

 

Peter laughed too. “Okay, okay. Seriously, though. I have awesome news.” He waited until she had closed her math book and was sitting up, her full attention on him. “I can be Spider-man in the daytime again.”

 

The change in Gwen’s expression was instantaneous. Her curious grin dissolved into confusion and concern. “Did- Is Flash not guarding you anymore?” she asked. “Did you get him fired?”

 

“What? No! No, Tony told Flash I’d be hanging out with him two days a week, so his services wouldn’t be needed during those times. Cause, like, where could be safer than Avenger’s Tower, you know? So I can be Spider-man during those days without worrying about Flash finding out,” Peter explained.

 

Gwen frowned further. “When did Tony find out? How did he find out?”

 

Peter leaned back, nervously trying to figure out how to edit his story to avoid telling her he’d fallen asleep while crime fighting. “Uh, well… a few nights ago, Spider-man ran into Iron Man, and… Jarvis- He recognized my voice and accidentally spoiled my secret identity. But that’s okay, because then Tony and I got to hash out how to fix my nocturnal schedule. Which is great! I was getting really tired of all the night time gigs. Pun totally intended.”

 

The smile was back on his face as he thought about Flash meeting Jarvis and how Tony had distracted Flash during the basketball game to tell him about the new arrangement. Apparently he’d also emailed Harry Osborne to clear the deal and had gotten approval back without even telling Peter. Flash had been so stunned that he’d fumbled the ball and let Tony whisk in to steal it and score.

 

Maybe it was a dirty trick, but it had been pretty funny too.

 

When he came back to the present situation, he found Gwen still frowning. “Aren’t you happy?” he asked. “Now I won’t be stretching myself so thin.”

 

“What? Oh! Yes.” She smiled then and nodded for emphasis. “I’m glad. You were really starting to worry me there with the whole under-two-hours-of-sleep-per-night deal. You know cognitive function starts to suffer if you don’t get more than seven. And you need to be sharp if you’re going to catch bad guys or discover a new scientific breakthrough.”

 

Now Peter laughed. “I think if either of us is going to discover a breakthrough, it’s going to be you. You actually have a lab, remember?”

 

“You’re right. I do,” Gwen agreed, smiling smugly. “I do have a lab. I’m a professional. A very professional professional.” Peter pressed his lips together so as not to say anything rude, but she caught the motion and gasped dramatically. “Peter Parker!” she exclaimed while he tried not to laugh again. “I am a very serious scientist. You need to take me seriously!”

 

“Oh yes. Very seriously. The most serious of serious,” Peter said, nodding.

 

They dissolved into laughter and giggles, forgetting about their homework and projects for the moment. Even Peter’s new deal with Tony fell to the wayside as they joked and teased each other. In the end, they were just lying in the bed together, their sides touching from their ankles all the way to their shoulders.

 

Gwen leaned her head over against his and sighed. Peter thought she might say something then, but nothing came. They laid in a comfortable silence until Gwen’s breathing pattern told Peter she had fallen asleep. Eventually, Peter would have to go home to Aunt May. Eventually, they had to finish their work. But for the moment, Peter just closed his eyes and rested in a way he hadn’t been able to do since Harry Osborne decided he wanted to protect him.

 

...

…

 

Pretending not to be Spider-man was usually pretty easy. He had several things to dissuade others from finding out the truth. Peter tended to wear his dad’s glasses whenever there was a big Spider-man story in the papers, whenever he wanted to appear smarter, or just when he was feeling particularly sentimental. He was less likely to make sarcastic and witty quips and puns while outside the suit too, though that took a bit more mental work the longer he worked as a superhero. And Peter Parker was known for taking Spider-man’s picture. How could he be taking pictures _and_ saving the day at the same time?

 

Simply put, Peter was good at deflecting interest away from himself and thus kept people from connecting that he and Spider-man were the same person.

 

Pretending to be weak had never been a problem. Okay, those first few days were hard, he admitted. The basketball backboard and the football goal posts, not to mention every single thing in his bathroom had fallen victim to his newly enhanced strength before he learned to temper it. But since then, Peter hadn’t so much as snapped a pencil in half.

 

He was proud of his control. So when Flash finally cashed in on taking Peter to a gym, Peter didn’t worry.

 

“Come on, it’s gonna be fun,” Flash assured him. He was wearing a red workout tank that showed off how strong his arms already were and deep navy blue track bottoms. Peter actually had to wonder for a moment if Spider-Man had inspired Flash’s workout attire. “Or at least entertaining. For me.”

 

Flash’s grin almost made Peter smile too, but he fought to pout instead. “Oh great. I don’t even know how to use any of these things. I’m gonna look stupid. I’ve never gone to the gym before,” he complained even as Flash was pushing him through the gym’s front doors.

 

“Don’t worry, Peter, I’ve got your back.”

 

And he did. Flash would lead Peter over to a machine and explain it, then he’d demonstrate it with a heavy weight, and finally he’d let Peter try. Peter would pull the pin from the stack of weighted plates and lower it before putting the pin back in and doing the same exercise Flash had done but lighter. If Flash noticed that, no matter how much weight he put on a specific machine, Peter’s chosen weight was always exactly three-fourths of that, he didn’t show it.

 

They’d worked through the horizontal seated leg press, the lat pull-down, the chest press, and had moved on to the cable biceps bar when Peter noticed OsCorp was on TV. He continued to follow Flash’s instructions and hear that his bodyguard was giving him encouragement and compliments, but Peter’s real attention was on the TV now.

 

Harry was on screen. The TV was on too low, and there was too much noise for Peter to actually hear what he was saying, and the captionist was really falling behind on their duties. He caught that OsCorp was working diligently on something that was going to change how people viewed medicine, that was going to save lives, but that it was still in the early stages and Harry wasn’t going to reveal much more about it until they had positive proof that it worked. The title on the screen read “Innovation at OsCorp Announcement.” After a few moments, the title flipped over to a subtitle that read “Can OsCorp Rise Above The Lizard?”

 

The Lizard. Dr. Connors. Gwen. Captain Stacy.

 

“Whoa!” Flash yelped at the same time that Peter registered a clanging noise.

 

The cable bar! He’d pulled too hard and slammed the weighted plates into the top of the machine. Peter dropped the hand grips like he’d been burned and there was another loud clang as the weighted plates crashed back down on top of their fellows. It was amazing to Peter that he hadn’t broken the machine.

 

“I-That is-Um,” Peter floundered, holding his hands up like he was about to be arrested. When he noticed the attention all the noise had drawn, Peter quickly put his hands behind his back and tried to look smaller than he was. “I….I guess my biceps are stronger than I thought.”

 

Flash inspected the machine to make sure it wasn’t damaged even as he responded. “I guess so.” Satisfied, he stood up and grinned at Peter.

 

Flash’s gaze swept up and down Peter’s body, over his sneakers and socks, his bared lower legs, the baggy black shorts and the grey, hooded, short-sleeved track jacket Peter had managed to find online that Flash had repeatedly expressed jealousy over. By the time Flash’s eyes reached Peter’s face, Peter felt like he’d been put through an inspection he hadn’t been given time to prepare for. Though, compared to Flash, Peter actually felt overdressed.

 

A smirk. “Should’ve skipped this machine altogether,” Flash said, reaching up to squeeze Peter’s bicep briefly. “Your biceps obviously need no work. I’ve known that since high school.”

 

“Wh-what?” Peter managed. “Flash, if you’re still on about that basketball thing-“

 

Now Flash chuckled and shook his head. “Nah. But by graduation, you were finally filling out your shirts. People were noticing,” he commented lightly.

 

Peter was still trying to comprehend that apparently people in high school had had crushes on him when Flash grabbed his arm and began leading him away from the cable biceps bar – and all the cable bars, actually.

 

“Come on. Let’s work on your legs a bit.”

 

Peter frowned down at his legs. “What’s wrong with my legs?” he asked petulantly.

 

Again Flash laughed, lightly pushing him toward a machine that read ‘Leg Abductor.’

 

“Nothing, Parker. But when you work out, you need to either alternate focus days for different muscle groups, or keep each work out well rounded. You don’t usually do stuff like this, so we’re rounding.” The look in his eyes was teasing as he said, “We wouldn’t want you to pull a muscle from overworking yourself,” with an amused smile. “I might get fired.”

 

That made Peter give a matching little grin. “And we don’t want that, of course.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> By the way, even though the chapters alternate between "by JessicaMDawn" and "by DLanaDHZ" - we didn't write every other chapter. We split up scenes based on who we thought would write it better or who had inspiration. We're just taking turns posting chapters.

Perhaps the oddest experience of Peter's admittedly short life was standing in a room surrounded by people in suits and fancy dresses, their hands, wrists, necks, and ears glinting with gems and jewels, while dressed in a tux of his own. It was a room for the rich and famous and Peter felt horribly out of place – exposed and yet ignored.

He'd hidden the webshooters under the cuffs of his tux just in case of emergencies and he would swear that everyone in this room knew it.

"You look white as a sheet, Pete. You okay?" Harry asked, sidling up on Peter's right. His dark bangs fell just over his left eye, giving him a mysterious and yet piercing aura.

Peter gave him a small smile. "No, no, I'm-everything's fine." He reached up to run a hand through his hair as he usually would when nervous, but Harry grabbed his arm to stop him from ruining the hairdo Harry had put so much time into giving him. "I guess I'm just nervous. I've never been to a party like this before," he admitted.

Releasing Peter's arm, Harry gave a flashing grin. "You see, you and I approach situations like this in very different ways. When you feel out of place, you hide away in a corner and try to make yourself invisible. Me? The room belongs to me and I'm the king."

Glancing around the opulent room at all the fancy dressed people and the artwork and statues and waiters, Peter huffed a laugh. "The room does belong to you, Harry."

Harry pursed his lips in a pout. "That's not the point," he grumbled, almost like a child. "Peter, the world sees me in a certain light, just as it sees you. And we choose how the world sees us. If you're feeling out of your depth, just pretend that you aren't and that's what everyone is going to see. I don't walk into every boardroom meeting knowing everything or having everyone agreeing with me. But I exude the confidence necessary to _make them_ agree, to make them _think_ I already know everything they're going to say before they say it."

"I don't-"

"You need to be more confident, Pete," Harry interjected. "You have the brains and the skills to do amazing things, but you're scared to. Follow my lead. Be confident. Take control of your life instead of letting it control you. Own the room, Peter. Be its king."

He threw his arms out wide as if offering Peter the world. It made Peter smile and a small laugh escaped his lips. "How much have you had?" he asked, motioning with his head to the wine glass in Harry's hand.

Harry shook his head with a chuckle. "Not nearly enough to earn that question," he replied, lowering his arms.

He wrapped his arm around Peter's shoulders and began leading him through the room, around people and statues and tables. At some point he lost his wine glass, though Peter hadn't seen where he put it. Amazingly, Peter felt more invisible now that he was at Harry's side, rather than noticed like he had before.

"Look at it, Peter," Harry whispered in his ear once they'd reached the wall length windows.

From this high up, Peter could see most of New York and part of New Jersey. It was dark out, and though there was too much light pollution to really see any stars, the city itself was glittering like a jewel. Even the moon was put to shame. This was Peter's city.

"This is our city," Harry murmured, reaching out to touch the glass with his free hand almost reverently. Peter almost jumped at how similar their thoughts had been. "Imagine it: all that we could do for this city, for this world, if we worked together. My business skills, your brains, our hearts. Our passions. We'd be heroes the likes of which no one has ever seen."

Sometimes Peter thought that Harry had more passion in his left hand than Peter had in his whole body. It lit Harry up from the inside like a million Christmas lights. It was partly what drew people to him.

"Being a hero...that's...a lot of responsibility," Peter managed after a moment of simply watching his friend watch the city.

Harry shrugged. "Some random guy in a spandex suit and a band of science experiments are currently this city's 'heroes,'" he said, air quotes obvious in his disdainful tone. "It needs better." He locked eyes with Peter. "It needs us."

...

...

"I've just gotta stop in and pick something up from Tony before we head to the park," Peter said as an apology as they walked into Avengers Tower.

Flash pulled one hand from his pant pockets to wave Peter's concern away. "As long as you agree to actually play in the game, dude."

Peter rolled his eyes, hitting the button to call the elevator. "I don't know why you want me on your team."

The doors opened and he stepped inside. When he turned around, Flash was looking around the lobby and attempting to look interested in the tile patterns. When Peter cleared his throat, Flash gave him a blank stare. Then Peter pointed to the spot next to him and raised an expectant eyebrow. Flash immediately perked up and hurried to take a spot in the elevator before the doors slid shut. Now that Peter thought about it, Flash had only accompanied him past the front door once before, when he met Tony. He'd only seen the one floor of Avenger's Tower, and not the one they were going to.

Good, it would give him something to do while Tony stole Peter away for whatever reason he'd called earlier.

 _"Welcome back, Mr. Parker."_ Peter waved at no one in particular. _"And you as well, Mr. Thompson."_ Flash glanced around for the camera though none was visible. Having only really 'met' Jarvis briefly before, it seemed Flash was still getting used to him.

"So yeah," Peter picked up their conversation while they rode the elevator smoothly up the floors, making Flash stop searching. "I'm not a basketball player."

Flash had organized a basketball game at the park courts for later on, mostly involving old basketball buddies from high school. It was one of those days where, in exchange for having to follow Peter around when he was doing his boring studying and work and stuff, Peter spent a day following Flash around instead. The stipulation of actually playing in the game hadn't come up until they were almost at the Avengers Tower.

Flash scoffed, tearing his eyes away from the numbers above the door. "Parker, in high school you dunked a basketball so hard you broke the backboard."

Peter flushed. "I-I told you, I-"

A waving hand nearly smacked him in the face trying to make him stop talking. "Yeah yeah. And I told you, I don't care _how_ you made it break. You still made a massive jump to land that dunk. That's better than most guys I know and it'll be useful in a game. And I know for a fact that you're quick on your feet. So suck it up. You're playing."

With no counter-argument, Peter just sighed in acceptance. The elevator doors opened at the same time that Flash smirked in victory. That smirk died as they stepped onto the floor and he took in the new surroundings.

Full glass walls looking out at the city, a large round couch with three ottomans for propping up tired or lazy feet, a gigantic TV mounted seamlessly into the wall, and Captain America leaning against the wall near the windows.

"Hey, Captain," Peter greeted with a small salute.

Steve grinned and waved in return. "Hey, Peter. Who's your friend?"

Peter motioned to Flash beside him, who was silently gaping at the hero. "This is Flash Thompson. He's a, uh, friend. A friend. From high school," he struggled to say. It wasn't even a lie, mostly. They were friends now, if not in high school.

If Steve caught on, he thankfully didn't bring it up. Instead he pushed himself to a full standing position and walked over to shake Flash's hand. Peter may or may not have heard his ex-bully squeak at the action.

"Right. Tony mentioned," Steve said as he finished shaking Flash's hand. "You're acting as Peter's bodyguard, correct?"

"That he is," Tony announced his presence. "Cap, why don't you entertain _Eugene_ while I steal Peter for awhile." It wasn't a question.

With Tony waving him over, Peter bid farewell to the two blonds - the younger of which looked like he was about to punch something just out of shock - and jogged to follow Tony out of the room.

"So, what did you want to talk to me about?" Peter asked when they were out of sight and ear shot of the others. "Jarvis wouldn't say, no matter how much I asked him."

"I wanted to show you something I've been working on."

Tony wouldn't explain until they'd walked through a door into one of the many labs in the building. Then he didn't really need to. Suspended in the middle of the room amid wires and bits of machinery was a red and gold suit, but it wasn't the Iron Man suit. It had four spidery arm-like attachments sprouting out from its back and had a golden spider design on the front almost identical to the one on Peter's own suit.

"Wh-what-what is it?" Peter stuttered, stepping closer.

Tony placed his hands on his hips and looked at the suit before them. "I'm calling it the Iron Spider. Obviously the name could change, if you don't like it, but it seemed to fit." He waved at it. "It's made of a superconducting, high performance plastic, so again the term 'iron' shouldn't actually apply, but the name is catchy. It's not done yet, but I plan on having this bad boy up and running by the end of the month."

Peter had stars in his eyes. The Iron Spider wasn't complete but it was beautiful. "Is it for me?" he asked breathily, reaching toward the leg of the suit and feeling the seamless plastic under his fingertips.

Tony snorted. "Well I'm not going to use it, it doesn't have a chance of fitting the Captain, and while I love our resident assassins, I'm not about to make them super suits. Yes it's for you." He clapped a hand on Peter's shoulder. "If you're going to be a superhero, you're going to be the best god damn superhero you can be."

Tony took some time explaining his ideas for the suit - from the advanced protein-scale nano-technology and exotic materials handling, to the impact sensing armor and integrated life support; from the waldoes spider arms ("which actually _do_ contain iron alloy, surprise surprise") to the gliding capabilities via mesh webbing in the arms. Peter felt faint the entire time, unable to properly articulate how psyched he was to try it out.

"Wow," he finally managed when Tony stopped talking. "Wow. No, really, wow."

His speechlessness made Tony smile. "Glad to know you're excited," he said. "I'll be sure to keep you posted on all the new additions I add to it before it's done. This is going to be such a suit that my current Iron Man suit is gonna weep in jealousy. I'm thinking breathing underwater, 360 vision capabilities, internal cooling and heating for extreme weather situations, the works."

Peter couldn't contain himself and threw his arms around Tony in a big hug. The older man made a choking sound and pat Peter on the back.

"Ok ok alright. I get that you love me. How about not breaking me in half before I finish your suit?" he wheezed.

With a gasp, Peter took a step back. "Sorry, sorry," he apologized in a rush. "I just got so excited." He rubbed his neck nervously and then beamed at Tony. "But seriously, there isn't a word invented yet to describe how cool this suit is gonna be, already is. You're the best, most amazing, most incredible man on the planet," he gushed.

Tony held his hands up. "Whoa, watch out. You'll make me blush." He glanced at the watch on his wrist and then held it out for Peter. They'd been looking at the armor for over fifteen minutes. A bit long for a quick pit-stop. "Don't you have a game soon?"

Peter didn't even ask how Tony knew. The creeper had probably watched Flash and Peter ever since they neared the building.

"Oh, yeah, yeah, the game," Peter verbally stumbled at the change of subject. "We should-I need to-Yeah. Thanks for the suit and-and-I mean, please, keep me posted-I just-I gotta go."

Tony slapped him on the back and led him from the room, making sure to lock the door with three different codes before leaving. Peter was a little nervous about the game now because he was so excited about that Iron Spider suit. He might bend the backboard by throwing the ball too hard just thinking about it.

"Oh, hey, just-uh-one thing," Peter mentioned hesitantly before they got back to where they'd left Flash and Steve.

"Hm? What?"

"The colors." Peter scratched his head distractedly and then shook it. "Instead of gold and red, maybe...maybe blue and red, like my current suit?" When Tony gave him a curious look, Peter hurried to explain. "I thought it looked ridiculous at first but I'm actually kind of attached to my look now. So, just, same design but change the gold to blue?"

Tony considered him for a moment, looking him up and down like he was assessing Peter's physique to decide what colors were best. At length, and just before reaching earshot of their fellows, he shrugged. "I'll make a note. No promises, but maybe."

Peter smiled at him but didn't respond. He was super glad that Tony had reached out to him now. He was really good to Peter and Aunt May, and helpful to Spider-Man. Life was weirder, but also strangely better.

"-qualified," Steve's voice said as Tony and Peter re-entered the main room. He was standing with his arms crossed over his chest and literally towering over Flash's already large form.

"Not qualified?!" Flash repeated, indignant, taking a step closer to the bigger man. "What are you on? He saves people every day. He stops mutants and failed science experiments and petty crooks and thieves, just like you. He wears a costume, just like you all do. He puts himself in danger for others, never thinks about himself, and does good in the world. What other qualifications does he need?"

"Not a college degree," Tony broke in smoothly. He nodded at Steve. "Obviously."

"Tony," Steve responded in warning. Tony just shrugged as he came to stand by Captain America's side.

"All I'm saying is that Spider-Man deserves to be an Avenger as much as any of you do," Flash continued, his face and tone equally determined to just _make them see._

Peter's heart skipped in his chest. Flash was trying to get him on the Avengers? But...he didn't even know Spider-Man. Did he really think Spider-Man was that great? That Peter could be an Avenger? He would really like to be an Avenger, but he didn't think anyone else wanted him to be one.

Tony sighed and rubbed at his eyes. "Look, kid," he said impatiently. "We get that he's a good hero in his own right."

"Damn right."

" _But_ ," Tony continued with a pointed look that made Flash stand at attention, "he's also just a kid."

Steve nodded. "The dangers we face as a team are far greater than any we ever faced alone. Do you really want to get your hero involved in things that could get him killed?" His eyes trailed over to where Peter was still standing by the door and it was obvious he was asking Peter the same question.

Flash ground his teeth together. "Maybe it's more dangerous, but he can handle it. He risks his life every damn day for this city, for this planet. And maybe your group missions are more dangerous, but you're also a team and you get it done. So maybe I don't want my hero in your dangerous missions. Maybe I want _you_ in my _hero's_ dangerous missions."

Tony's mouth dropped open in shock but Steve kept his composure a little better. Peter snorted at the preening look on Flash's face. Then a hand landed on his head and ruffled his hair, messing it up.

"He may be young, but this kid is right," Natasha said, still messing up Peter's hair while he tried in vain to stop her. "Maybe we should let Spider-Man into the tower." She pulled her hands away and winked at Peter before walking over to Tony and Steve.

"You cannot be serious," Steve said. "You realize who he is?" He glanced at Tony then Peter then back to Tony then up at Natasha. Apparently Tony learning his secret meant the others knew his secret, or maybe they'd known before that, but either way they definitely knew. So much for secret identities. Thankfully, Flash was looking at Peter while he scrambled to fix his hair and didn't see it.

Natasha scoffed at the insult to her intelligence. "Oh I know exactly who he is. Information is my business," she reminded the living legend.

"You know Spider-man's identity?" Flash asked, but it was practically a whisper and none of the heroes in the room responded. "They know-" He tried looking to Peter for help, but Peter was too busy focusing on Natasha to respond. Was she about to spill his secret _in front of Flash_?

Natasha held out her hand to Tony with a data pad in it. "The Colonel wants you to take a look at this. It's the latest on the radiation tests." Peter let out the breath he'd been holding and reminded his heart to keep beating.

While Tony took the data pad and began scanning the information it contained, Natasha turned to look Flash over. He flinched briefly when he noticed her gaze, ripping his attention from Peter to stare her in the eyes. Natasha smirked at his resolute expression and stiff stance. She knocked Steve with her elbow.

"Sign him up, Cap. I think he's ready for the army," she teased.

Flash nodded before Steve could respond. "I would," he said. "I would join the army and fight for my country."

Steve straightened his back but didn't uncross his arms. "And what would you be fighting for?" he asked. "You want to kill the latest enemy?"

Flash shook his head. "I don't like bullies."

Steve was so shocked he actually took a step back and uncrossed his arms. Natasha raised an eyebrow at Flash, as did Peter as he finally joined the group in the middle of the room.

"Really?" she prodded. "You don't like bullies?" Her eyes trailed over to Peter, a clear indication of what she thought of that.

A red flush of shame crossed Flash's cheeks. "I know. I was a bully. I don't have a right to talk," he said. "But I've learned better. Spider-Man taught me better." Tony stopped scrolling through the data pad but didn't look up. "I've been through a lot, but so has he. And if he can take a beating and keep fighting the good fight, not take revenge or use his gifts for evil...Well, then so can I."

For a long moment, no one said anything. Peter still had one hand in his hair but he'd forgotten to lower it. He knew as a hero that he made a difference. He saved people all the time. But he didn't know that he could change people like this. This was never the sort of difference he thought he would make in this city. He hadn't thought himself important enough for that.

"Well," Tony said, flipping the data pad around and handing it back to Natasha. "Tell 'the colonel'," he said with air quotations, "that I'll get right on that."

Natasha nodded and immediately began to leave. Tony kept talking in rapid fire with hand motions to match everything he said.

"You," he pointed at Flash, "make an excellent point. Be the bigger man. I certainly never could do that. Guess it's good I never had any kids of my own. Oh," he paused for the briefest of moments, "Jarvis, send Baby Fluff an apology gift for that one."

 _"Right away, sir,"_ the computerized voice agreed from the roof.

The eccentric billionaire pointed at Steve now. "Also, I think we need to start writing up invitations for each of our merry gang to a party. Welcome to the Avengers, Spider-Boy," he said in a dramatic and carrying voice. Peter flushed, his heart speeding up.

"Y-you mean-" he stuttered out.

Tony nodded while Steve gaped at him in shock. "You betcha. I'm thinking red and blue for the decorations, and a giant cake with his face on it. Not his real one, obviously, but the mask. Gotta make it kid friendly for all the younger members. And by younger members I mean just him," Tony said with a wink that made Peter frown.

His phone rang then, the familiar default ringtone followed by, _"Mr. Parker, a message for you from Papa Bear."_

Peter rolled his eyes while Flash gave him a look of pure confusion. He didn't even pull out his phone. "What message? He's right here and he's not a bear or my 'papa'," he added, staring at Tony sternly. Tony didn't even have the decency to look embarrassed.

 _"He would like to apologize for being a terrible father by giving you a specialized camera that can be controlled remotely and at a great distance. It also has several features to increase the quality of your photography, as well as a special x-ray feature he designed himself," Jarvis_ continued without feeling. _"He's been working on it for months in preparation for your birthday. It should be arriving at your aunt's house by the end of the day."_

Now Tony looked shocked. "Jarvis! Not what I meant!" he shouted.

 _"My apologies, sir. Perhaps you should be more specific next time,"_ the computer responded without remorse.

Peter laughed for a moment at the gob smacked look on his god-father's face. Then he stopped abruptly and frowned. "Wait. Baby Fluff?" he asked with a glare.

Flash snorted into his hand and Tony shrugged. "Code name of the week," the older man offered. "Get a haircut and maybe I'll change it."

Peter just barely resisted the urge to stamp his feet. "There's nothing wrong with my hair."

"Sure isn't," Flash agreed, then flushed bright red when the attention was back on him.

Steve sighed and rolled his shoulders, deciding to clear the awkward air. "Are you happy, then?" Everyone looked at him, not sure who he was talking to. Steve motioned to Flash. "Spider-Man is going to be invited to be an Avenger. If he wants it, he's in. Are you happy?"

"Yes!" both Flash and Peter answered as one. They looked at each other with wide eyes, then coughed and looked away a second later, Peter blushing and Flash just looking a bit uncomfortable.

Tony and Steve grinned at each other, then Tony cleared his throat.

"So I've got a lot of work to do. Cap's got some patriotic popsicles to freeze-" Steve frowned. "-and don't you two have an event to get to?"

Peter jolted. "Right! The game." He grabbed Flash by the shoulder and headed for the door. "Come on, Flash. We're gonna be late."

Just before Peter dragged him outside, Flash managed to turn around enough to wave back at Tony and Steve. As they rode the elevator down, he scratched his cheek.

"So...I think I pissed off Captain America," he said, a glum note to his voice.

Peter squinted at him. "Are you sure? Cause I think you actually kind of impressed him. I mean, you impressed _me_."

He had to catch himself when Flash knocked him sideways. It wasn't a mean push so it was unexpected.

"Of course I impressed you, Peter," he scoffed. "But I argued with _Captain America_. The beacon of the country. The symbol of patriotism," he groaned. "I look up to him too, so I should've made a better impression than that."

Peter shifted on his feet self-consciously. "Well...Maybe he respects your confidence," he suggested. He knew for a fact that Steve had been impressed by Flash's bullying response, but he also had no idea what they'd talked about before he and Tony walked in, so anything was possible. "And you got Spider-Man into the Avengers."

A beaming smile grew on Flash's face. "I know. And it's gonna be awesome."

The basketball game went down as an easy win for Flash's handpicked team. Most of them were members of the old high school basketball team from Midtown, plus Peter. There was a little confusion when Flash let the others know Peter was on their team, but they didn't try to ignore him or play without him, so everything worked out. And Peter didn't bend the backboard or pop the ball or do anything overly superhuman, which counted as a win to him. Their opponents - mostly guys from Midtown's rival school's old team - didn't stand a chance against a fired up Flash Thompson and an excited Peter Parker.

Peter got a lot of pats on the back for his backwards dunk at the end of the game. He would be the last one to admit he'd been showing off, but yeah, he had. Flash ruffled his hair, reminiscent of when Natasha had done it earlier, and said, "Way to go, Parker!" after all their teammates were done. Even while he was fixing his hair again, Peter couldn't stop smiling. Today was all around a good day. Maybe he would follow Flash for a day more often.

...

...

_tbc_


	7. Chapter 7

Peter got the official invitation to join the Avengers a week later via Hawkeye. Or, via Hawkeye shooting a suction arrow at him that took him five minutes to pull off the middle of his back, with a letter from Colonel Fury inside the extra container attached.

 

The letter said to come to Avengers Tower to accept or decline and he did. He even walked through the front door in full costume because hey, super heroes came here all the time. Also, he didn't know how the others came and went secretly yet so it was either that or climb to the roof like he usually did.

 

_"Good evening, Mr. Parker,"_ Jarvis greeted when Peter boarded the elevator.

 

"Hey, Jarvis," Peter responded. "You know where I'm supposed to go?" The light for the top floor lit up momentarily before returning to show he was on the bottom floor, then the elevator began to smoothly rise. Peter smiled behind his mask. "I can always count on you."

 

_"Of course, sir."_

 

The elevator slowed to a stop and the doors opened. He had barely taken one step out of the elevator when there were two loud popping sounds and he was showered in brightly colored confetti.

 

"Wha-" A piece of red and blue Spider-Man face cake was shoved at him by Natasha before he could finish. He accepted it but still looked around in confusion.

 

Tony was there, along with Hawkeye, Captain America, and Natasha the Black Widow, all Avengers Peter knew from the news. Only Hawkeye was in anything resembling his costume, with sunglasses over his eyes. Peter hoped that was to protect his identity and not because he needed them because it was sunset outside and nowhere near bright enough to need shades. From the start, everyone called Hawkeye "Clint", and Peter didn't know any Clint's, but obviously no one in the room cared about hiding identities from each other, so now Peter knew a total of one Clint.

 

The others were probably out of costume because Peter already knew who they were or their identities weren't secret. There was also a man that Peter recognized as Bruce Banner who was standing a little behind Tony, who looked equally pleased and nervous to see Spider-Man standing before him. And the last person in the room was an imposing dark skinned man with no hair and an eye patch. This must be Colonel Fury.

 

Steve would later tell him that though Fury's military position was a colonel, his actual title was "Director Fury" when in relation to the Avengers. It wouldn't do much to make Peter feel safe around the older and bigger man.

 

Each of the Avengers greeted him and welcomed him to the group in their own way, usually amicably and with a smile at least. Peter eyed Clint suspiciously the whole party while the assassin smirked back at him, Fury barely gave him a nod the entire time, and Bruce didn't eat even a bite of cake, but other than that it was a pretty nice party. No one even made a comment about him eating cake with his mask only pulled up to his nose.

 

Peter could have done without the banner that read "Welcome to the Avengers, Spider-Boy" though. At least it didn't say "Baby Fluff."

 

He left the tower after dark had fallen with the last piece of cake wrapped up in tinfoil on a plate. Instead of heading home, Peter began swinging across the city in the near opposite direction. It didn't take him long to reach his destination.

 

He stood on the roof of the apartment building, nearly identical to every other one in the area, and looked down at the space between it and its neighbor. The alley between the two apartment buildings was so thin that Flash couldn't stand shoulder to shoulder in it, but Peter was thinner and flexible and had plenty of room. Making sure he had a good grip on the wrapped cake, Peter lowered himself down the wall upside down like a spider via his webbing.  Once outside the correct window, Peter rapped on the glass. A few seconds later, he rapped again.

 

"Delivery," he called out, just loud enough that he knew he would be heard inside but not attract attention from elsewhere.

 

A few thudding footsteps later the window flew up, at least as far as it would go, and Flash Thompson stared out at him with wide and confused eyes.

 

"S-spider-man!" he gasped. "I thought I heard-"

 

"Somebody else?" Peter asked with a smirk when Flash didn't finish his statement.

 

The ex-bully shook his head, then said, "What are you doing here?"

 

Peter flipped right side up, his feet keeping him steady in front of the window by gripping the brick below it, and held out the tinfoil wrapped cake. "Thought you might want to take part in the celebration."

 

Flash accepted the gift and unwrapped it. What he saw was a piece of vanilla cake covered on top in black frosting, with a tiny bit of red on one side.

 

"It's supposed to be my eyes," Peter noted. "But apparently the Avengers have more of a sweet tooth than you might think, so it's all that was left of the cake."

 

"Oh," Flash let out as it clicked. "They really had a party to celebrate, huh? Never would have imagined that." He looked up at Peter again and his eyes widened some more, like it was just now registering that _Spider-Man_ was _bringing him cake_ from his 'joining the Avengers' party. "But why...?"

 

Peter shrugged. "Figured the guy that got me an in should also have been at the party," he said easily.

 

Flash looked stunned. He stammered when he spoke, which was nothing Peter had ever heard before. "I-I just, I mean, you deserve....Wow, this is happening. You're at my apartment."

 

He smirked behind his mask. "I might see you more often than you think," he said mysteriously. "But I outta go for now. Just wanted to thank you for making a dream of mine come true."

 

"No problem," Flash said with a nod, still looking rather star struck but attempting to make a good impression.

 

Peter winked, though Flash couldn't see it. "Stay outta trouble, Eugene."

 

Then, with a small salute, Peter whipped himself back up to the roof and out of sight before Flash could react to the name. Now that that had been taken care of, Peter had one more person to inform of his change in status. He took a moment to do a happy dance on the roof of Flash's apartment building, overcome by the fact that _he was an Avenger now_ , before he considered himself calm enough to do some web-slinging.

 

...

...

 

"You're what?" Gwen deadpanned.

 

Peter stood in her bedroom in his Spider-Man uniform sans mask while she was in her nightgown. It wasn't an unusual position to find themselves in.

 

He nearly bounced as he repeated it. "I'm an Avenger now." He bit his lip to keep from grinning too wide.

 

His blonde girlfriend frowned. "But-but-how? When? Why?"

 

Peter shrugged. "Flash made this great speech to them about Spider-Man when we stopped by for a minute awhile back. Then Tony talked to the other Avengers, I guess, and I got an invitation. There was a party and everything. We ate a cake shaped like my face," he tacked out joyously, trying not to laugh.

 

"Your face?" Gwen asked with raised eyebrows that screamed 'You're kidding, right?'

 

He shrugged. "Well, not my face my face, but my mask," he corrected, then inhaled and sighed out deeply in contentment. "But, oh, Gwen, imagine it. Me, an Avenger. Fighting alongside Iron Man and Captain America and Hawkeye. I'm a little scared of the Hulk and Black Widow, but I'm sure they're great to work with. And I'll get my own floor at the tower, with training simulators and armor-"

 

"Armor?" Gwen squeaked out in mild fright.

 

"Yeah, Tony was already working on it for me before now, but it'll be really useful now that I'm gonna be taking part in Avenger missions sometimes," Peter informed her. "It's the best suit ever. I swear. He told me he's planning on it being impact resistant for superhuman attacks, and on installing some instant first aid for wounds so I can keep fighting if I need to."

 

Gwen covered her mouth with her hand briefly and then turned around completely. That got Peter down from his cloud of euphoria faster than lightning. He stepped forward and reached out for Gwen's shoulder, but she stepped away from his touch.

 

"Gwen?" he asked in concern. "What's wrong?"

 

She shook her head and took a deep breath. "Sorry. I'm sorry." When she turned back to face him, her eyes were wet with unshed tears. "But Peter, I don't...I don't know that I can do this anymore."

 

Heart dropping, Peter asked, "Do what?" in a whisper.

 

Gwen motioned between the two of them. "This. Us." She shook her head again when Peter lifted his hands to cup her face. He put them back down. "Peter, you had Flash as a bodyguard and you were doing less as Spider-Man. And then you weren't. You were just fitting Spider-Man in around the time Flash was with you and you were so _tired_. I was terrified you wouldn't see an attack coming and you would get hurt, or worse."

 

Peter shook his head. "But I didn't. And I don't have to stay up so late all the time anymore. Not thanks to Tony and the Avengers Tower," he reminded her.

 

A nod of acknowledgement. "And I was okay with that. Not happy, but okay," Gwen admitted.

 

That still made Peter frown. She wasn't happy that he could be Spider-Man freely again? What was happening?

 

Gwen reached out and touched Peter's suit over his heart. He didn't move because he knew she didn't want him to. "Peter," she continued quietly. "I can't sit here every night, knowing you're in danger and being unable to do anything about it. I can't sit back and watch you crawl in through the window with wounds to patch up. I admit I was glad when Flash started guarding you because it meant you were safer. But now..."

 

"Now I'm an Avenger," Peter said for her.

 

She nodded, looking down at her hand instead of in his eyes. "Things are only going to get more dangerous from here on. And...and I'd rather be distant from the danger than just on the sidelines. I'd rather...I'd rather be able to believe you weren't getting hurt than having to see the proof that you are," she whispered.

 

It felt like he was ripping his own lungs with the breath it took for Peter to say, "You're breaking up with me?" His eyes grew moist but he refused to let himself cry.

 

Gwen stared at where her hand was slightly caressing the Spider-Man uniform, feeling the design of the fabric, for several long seconds. Then she slowly lifted her gaze to Peter's and a tear slipped down her cheek as she nodded.

 

"Yes. Yeah. Yes," she said in an emotional whisper. Peter couldn't help the pained and broken sound that tore from his mouth and Gwen rushed to keep talking, her fingers digging into his chest. "I, I, Peter, I will.... _always_ have feelings for you. Trust me, I promise, I'm not breaking up with you because I want to," she choked out, another tear falling. "I just don't want to wait for you one night and have you never come. Do-do you understand that? I couldn't stand that."

 

Peter placed his hand gently over Gwen's, making her raise her eyes to his again. He felt his control over the tears slipping as he nodded frantically and tried to respond. "Yeah, no, yeah. I...I get it. I-I do," he said in a shaky breath. "I-"

 

Breaking off, Peter squeezed his eyes shut and turned his head away to hide how the tears had began to slide down his cheeks. Gwen let out a small sound of concern and then reached out to hug him with her free arm.

 

"Peter, I'm sorry. I'm so so sorry," she whispered into his hair. "I'll help you. If I can. If you need help someday, I'll do it. But I just can't...I can't be this involved anymore. And it's not your fault. It's not your fault. I'm sorry."

 

She kept repeating that in a quieter and quieter voice until she wasn't actually making any sound, just her lips moving against his head. And she held him while he wept, crying her own tears into his messy brown hair. How long they stood there, Peter didn't know and didn't care. This was the last time he would have Gwen Stacy this close, unless she someday changed her mind. So he wrapped his arms around her tight, but not too tight, and let her hold him in return. He soaked up the feeling of her embrace and filed it away, and he tried not to let his heart break too badly to ever be mended.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the shortness of this chapter. We promise the next one returns to the lengths you've come to expect. Thanks for reading!


	8. Chapter 8

That morning, Flash knocked on the Parker residence front door just as he did every day, but there was a bounce in his step. Today felt like a good day, a great day. Spider-man had come to see him last night! He could still taste the frosting on that cake – a piece of Spider-man's celebration cake. He'd been standing in his bathroom to receive that cake, but it was still one of the highlights of his _entire life_.

He nodded at a woman walking her dog and watched until she was several houses down. Then the door opened and he flipped his attention back around.

"Morning, Peter! Ready for cl-" Flash cut off abruptly as Peter walked out into the morning sunlight and shut the door behind him.

He'd seen Peter look tired before, with bags under his eyes, but he'd been looking better and more vibrant lately so Flash assumed that whatever had been bothering him was over. Now Peter's eyes were so dark they looked haunted. His skin was pale, almost like he was sick. He'd obviously made some basic attempt on his hair before deciding it was too much work because it looked finger combed but still stuck up in odd directions. And Flash was pretty sure he was wearing yesterday's clothes.

"Morning, Flash," Peter said, his voice hoarse like…

Looking at Peter's eyes again, Flash noted how red they were. Peter had been crying? It felt like the day Peter's uncle died all over again, when Flash's stomach had twisted up and he'd felt sick just imagining the kind of pain Peter must've been in. Heaven knew Flash wouldn't cry (much) when his own father died, but this was _Peter Parker_.

"If…If we don't get going…we're, uh, gonna be," Peter cleared his throat to try and rid himself of the gravely tone, "late."

Peter moved passed Flash and down the steps. It took Flash about half a second to flip around, grab Peter by the arm, and march him off down the street. It took Peter about two minutes of flailing and half asked questions to realize they weren't heading in the right direction for school.

"Flash, what-what-where are we going? We've got class soon."

Shaking his head, Flash paused just long enough to glance back at Peter and say, "We're skipping today." Then he refused to answer Peter's questions until they had made it to the nearest pizza place.

By that time, Peter had fallen into a mulish silence and wouldn't even look at Flash. Flash pushed him into a chair, then took the one across from him.

"What happened?" he asked. Peter didn't answer. "You look like you spent the night weeping instead of sleeping."

Peter shifted uncomfortably in his chair and turned his head away. Flash was surprised by the spike of hurt he felt at the motion. Peter looked like he was waiting for Flash to tease him, and ready for it to be cruel. He'd never looked like that, even when Flash had been his biggest bully.

"I'm your friend," Flash reminded him, his voice as sincere as he could make it. "I wanna help, but I can't do anything if you don't talk to me." In the pause that followed, Peter's muscles seemed only to grow tenser. "Peter."

It was like he'd hit just the right button. All the tension seemed to melt out of Peter's frame until he looked unsteady enough that he might fall out of the chair.

"I-," Peter faltered. "She-Gwen, she-"

For a panicked moment, Flash imagined Gwen dead on a sidewalk, the victim of a mugging or some other violent crime. He had a vivid picture of her in her cream colored coat, covered in blood.

Then Peter glanced up through his bangs at Flash, pain creeping through his eyes like an oil spill in the bay, and whispered, "Gwen broke up with me."

Relief flooded through Flash. Gwen was okay. She was alive. But the ache in every part of Peter's body made Flash feel like a jerk for being happy that a breakup was all that was wrong. Okay, Flash had never had a serious long term relationship – definitely not one as strong and long as Peter and Gwen's had seemed to be. Other guys on his teams had broken up with girlfriends before, but they'd never let on if it seriously hurt them. Mostly they played it off like it was nothing, even while they tried to win the girl back. Flash had never had to comfort any of them. But he had to do something here and now, and he had to do it better than when Peter's uncle died.

How did you comfort someone devastated by a breakup?

Flash stood up, his chair scraping along the tile floor of the shop, and went up to the counter. He returned to the table a few minutes later with a pineapple and sausage pizza. Peter had his head in his arms on the table.

"Up," Flash said, and it was enough to make Peter sit up so that Flash could put the pizza on the table in front of him. "Breakfast of champions."

With the way Peter was staring at the pizza, Flash wondered briefly if Peter had just eaten before Flash picked him up. Then Peter's stomach rumbled and Flash grinned. Heart sore Parker hadn't taken the time to eat before class, so Flash's gesture worked.

They didn't talk much while they ate, but the food alone seemed to be helping. The color returned to Peter's skin and he didn't look quite as haunted as he had earlier that morning. As much as Flash was curious as to what could come between Peter Parker and Gwen Stacy, seeing Peter healthy and okay was more important than knowing. So he didn't ask.

Peter ate five slices, first only nibbling and then inhaling them at rapid speed. He looked Flash over with an inquisitive expression while he wiped his hands off on the napkins. Flash pretended the look didn't make him nervous and kept eating his third slice.

"So," he said at length, the rocks gone from his throat but still sounding tired. "I've, uh…never skipped school before."

Flash snorted. "I bet you haven't." He swallowed the last bite of pizza and reached for his own napkins. "How about catching a movie and then we go judge tourists in Times Square? I know a cheap theater that shows old superhero flicks."

Something that might have been a laugh if Peter had given it more energy snuck out of Peter's mouth. Peter shook his head. "Right. Sure." He let out a deep sigh.

"We don't have to," Flash was quick to say. He wanted to do something that would lift Peter's spirits, not force him to do something that upset him more.

"No no," Peter said, running his hand through his hair. "That sounds…That sounds good. Let's do it." He met Flash's eyes and then seemed to settle, like that had been a goal he reached. "I've never judged tourists in Times Square before either."

Flash smiled and leaned back in his chair. "Don't worry, Peter, I've got your back."

…

…

A few days after "It" happened, the sky was bright despite a covered sun, and a chilly breeze blew straight through to the city's bones. Autumn was in full force. In the graveyard, Peter had a clear view of the partly cloudy sky, of the freshly trimmed grass around the headstones, and of the New York skyline in the background.

At his feet was the grassy plot that was home to Uncle Ben. The stone was still new, in terms of headstones, so his name hadn't been worn down by the weather or the hands of loved ones. Peter took a shuddering breath as he read the inscription. _Beloved Husband and Uncle._

"Hey Uncle Ben," he said, stuffing his hands in his jacket pockets. "Sorry it's been so long. I've been... uh... kind of busy. I've got this new friend, Harry Osborne. Yeah, I know. An Osborne of all people. What's he even doing hanging out with a loser like me, right? Ha. But no, he's brilliant. Really he is. And we get together and play games and talk science like once a week or something ridiculous. He's really great. A bit overprotective, but..."

A hundred paces back, Flash was hovering between the tombstones, reading the names and dates. Peter gave him a brief glance and silently thanked the other for giving him such a wide berth. The young man might not like his own family, but he seemed to have no issue understanding Peter's strong bond with people who weren't even his parents.

"Um. Well, I've got a bodyguard now," Peter continued, returning to look down at his uncle's plot. "Not that I need one, obviously. You know that. But Flash is nice. You remember Flash, right? He's different than he was in high school. We're friends now, and I know you'd approve of that – the whole 'setting aside our differences and finding common ground' thing. He's... He's better now that he lives on his own."

Even to a dead man, Peter didn't know how to explain what he knew about what made Flash, well, Flash. How did you talk about a childhood of abuse, about a kid who felt so powerless at home that he had to force power at school, about how all that kid really needed was someone to look up to who wouldn't judge him? Flash had never outright told Peter any of this, but he'd dropped enough hints, let slip enough details that Peter understood.

Frowning, Peter thought about how easily Flash had latched on to the symbol of Spider-man. If Flash knew the truth... would he lose that all-encompassing awe he had for the superhero? Right now, Spider-man was a perfect ideal. If he was suddenly someone Flash knew and talked to, would that ruin the spark that had pulled Flash through his final months of living with his father?

With a shake of his head, Peter cast aside that thought process. There was no way to know, and it didn't matter anyway. Because Peter didn't plan on letting Flash in on that secret. Spider-man would continue to be a beacon of hope. Just a friendly face in the crowd of strangers.

"I uh... Also, I mean... Gwen. She broke up with me." Peter knelt down and frowned intently at the dirt. His eyes stung, but he tried not to cry. Not again. "I think... I think it was a long time coming. Looking back. But that doesn't make it any easier, you know? And Aunt May, she's trying so hard to be supportive, and she won't say a cross word about Gwen. Because really it wasn't Gwen's fault, and I think May knows that somehow. Not that she's blaming me. She's been... been really great."

Oh perfect. He was crying anyway. Despite all his efforts, tears had formed and were rolling slowly down his face. He rubbed at them with his sleeve and was glad Flash couldn't see. Hopefully his eyes were watching for threats from other visitors and not watching Peter lose it giving a simple update. Dang it.

"Sorry. I thought … But I guess I'm gonna be a bit of wreck for a while, huh?" Peter sniffled and shook his head again. "God, I just wish you were here, Uncle Ben. I wish I could ask you... like what do I do? I'm surrounded by people all day, and they're all trying to keep me from thinking about her, but they're so tense. It's obvious! And at night, I spend all my time as Spider-man, because I can't think of her if I'm fighting. But it doesn't help! And I know... I know you'd have some stupid old saying to help me out. You really should have, like, written those down ahead of time or something. Cause what am I supposed to do now?"

Uncle Ben, with his stupid wise words on everything – from bullies to careers to why peanut butter was better than jelly. Peter could imagine his uncle perfectly, the way he'd smile at Peter and then sigh, but every time he imagined his uncle opening his mouth to speak, he couldn't hear the words. The mouth moved, but his lips were unreadable, his message unknown. But what would he be saying if he were there? If he hadn't... If Peter had only...

"I know, I know," Peter murmured and then cleared his throat. "You'd probably tell me to pick myself up and focus on what matters most – on myself. Not on Gwen or even on Spider-man, but on me. And I promise, I'm trying to. And... Well Flash is helping with that, I guess. He keeps dragging me around the city during the times I'd usually spend with Gwen. Well, that or we study together.

"We studied before, back during Summer semester. And Flash, heh, he passed both of his classes. He was so excited. We celebrated with a treat from that one truck, uh, the uh, Van Leeuwen ice cream one, you know? And Flash got a brain freeze." Peter chuckled quietly and found himself smiling fondly at the memory. "And now he's got two more to get through. Mid-terms are coming up fast. He seems to think he's too stupid to study without me, but he's smart, Uncle Ben. I mean, he's no scientist. He won't be winning the Nobel Prize, but he's not dumb."

He heard Flash talking to someone behind him, and when he turned he saw his bodyguard on the phone. The only people who called Flash were usually OsCorp related, which must mean that Harry was making some kind of request. Peter should finish up quick.

"Sorry, running out of time here. One last thing... Something I probably wouldn't have asked your permission for even if you were here, but I probably should have. I'm an Avenger. Like with Tony and Steve and the others. Pretty cool, huh? We haven't gone on any missions yet, and Tony told me it's usually quiet on the team front,… which doesn't really explain why Steve is over so often - but I get to train with Black Widow at the tower now, and that's pretty awesome. Terrifying, but awesome. Tony's already made me armor, but he says he's working on getting Spider-man his own suite at the tower, just like every other member has. It's gonna be... heh, sweet. Pun totally intended."

"Peter!" Flash called out. He had closed the distance between them by half but was still out of earshot for Peter's mumbling. "Sorry, man. I don't mean to rush the visit, but Osborne wants you to see him at work. I mean he's saying a competitor is in the area and he's worried for your safety, but twenty bucks says he's just bored and wants to play games on that huge ass screen of his."

With a short laugh, Peter stood up and nodded. "I'm so not taking that bet," he said. Flash was probably right, and the grin on his face proved he thought so too. Peter turned back to the gravestone and put a hand on it. "See you next time, Uncle Ben. Love you."

As they walked back toward the entrance of the graveyard, Flash told him a company car was coming to pick them up. Then they joked about how they could ditch the car and freak Harry out until Peter walked into the OsCorp building. The only thing stopping them was the sobering thought that Harry could and probably would fire both the driver and Flash for that small bit of fun. What a party pooper.

And it was a nice conversation... even with Peter's mind still straying to Gwen's laugh and Gwen's smile and all the shenanigans they got up to in the lab when Harry Osborne didn't even know Peter Parker existed. It had only been a few days, but he missed her so much already, and even Uncle Ben couldn't make that kind of pain disappear in an instant.

…

…

The Statue of Liberty. One hundred and fifty-one feet of copper symbolizing freedom, friendship, and a better future. The only time Peter had ever been up close to it had been in middle school when his school took a field trip to the Ellis Island museum. Yes yes, bad New Yorker, how dare he.

The ferry was crammed with people all talking at the same time. Peter leaned against the railing and watched the water slapping against the side of the boat as it cut through on its way to Liberty Island. The ticket in his pocket would allow him access to the crown of the statue, but Peter wasn't looking forward to it as much as he felt he should.

"How you doing, Peter?" Flash asked, leaning his back against the railing next to the brunette.

Peter shrugged. "It's a nice day," he said. And it was. The sun was shining but there were a few clouds so it wasn't too bright, it wasn't too cold or too hot. He didn't have class or work, and he and a friend were heading to see "New York's Must Visit Attraction." Yes, the weather had been great pretty much every day since that night at Gwen's.

A finger traced the line of his left eye and Peter squeezed them both shut as he turned his head away. "Nope. Not dirt. Those are definitely bags under your eyes, Peter," Flash commented with a frown. "I wasn't asking about the weather."

He knew what Flash was talking about. Gwen. When wasn't someone talking about Gwen? Aunt May asked about Gwen. Tony asked about Gwen. Harry asked about Gwen. Flash was the first person Peter told about the break up, and he'd actually been the one to mention it the least since. It had been two weeks.

Rubbing his eyes, Peter said, "I'll be fine, Flash."

Flash leaned back over the railing, the sun lighting up every inch of exposed skin and making him squint his eyes. His hair had grown out a bit and Peter noticed for probably the first time that Flash was blonde, the light strands almost shining in the mid-day light. For a moment, Peter wondered how long Flash would let his hair get before he shaved it short again. How blonde would it get?

Then Flash turned his head to the side to focus on Peter and Peter quickly looked out across the water.

"It's a nice view," Flash said, nodding toward the city. "I hear it's better from the crown."

Peter nodded. "Probably. It's amazing when you're up high," he said. Flash raised a curious eyebrow. "OsCorp is the tallest building in New York. Avengers Tower is, like, the fourth tallest. You see a lot."

And he'd been swinging through it, around and sometimes above buildings, for years now. The bags under his eyes weren't because he'd sat up night after night bemoaning the loss of Gwen. He knew that's what people thought, but it wasn't true. Instead, Peter had spent every waking moment when he wasn't at school or work or with Harry going out as Spider-man. The more time he spent saving people, the less time he spent thinking about that night when Gwen ended things, about all the nights and days before that where they'd been happy together.

Sighing, Peter watched the sun glint across the distant windows of New York. If he went to the other side of the ferry, Peter would see New Jersey, but that wasn't his city. Harry didn't think Spider-man was a hero, but he wanted to help New York just as much as Peter did. It was their city. It was the home of something like eight million people. This was their city too.

"I love this city," Peter murmured, closing his eyes and just feeling the breeze on his face.

"Yeah," Flash agreed, and Peter could hear the smile in his voice. "I can't imagine I'd be happy living anywhere else."

Peter frowned, but it was in consideration rather than sorrow. He opened his eyes and watched as Liberty Island got closer and closer. "If...If I were with the right person...I think I could be happy living anywhere, but...Yeah. I can't imagine living anywhere else either."

They were quiet as the boat docked and let all its passengers disembark. Then Flash clapped a hand on Peter's shoulder and, grinning, said, "Bet I can beat you to the crown."

He didn't beat Peter to the crown. Peter let him lead most of the way and then slipped ahead just as they reached the line to go up. Then they climbed and, by the time they finished scaling all three hundred fifty-four steps, Flash was a bit out of breath and Peter had to pretend to be.

"Remind me never to take elevators for granted again. What was that, twenty stories?"

Gwen lived twenty stories up. The first time Peter had visited, he'd told Gwen her doorman was intimidating and came in through the window. The doorman _was_ intimidating, but that really wasn't the point. They'd been so silly then. Gwen hadn't known about Spider-man but she'd still loved his quirky behavior. And he'd loved hers.

"Hey, Peter, come check out the view," Flash said. "Stop blocking the stairs." When Peter stepped forward, Flash took him by the wrist to pull him closer to the small windows overlooking the bay.

The view had nothing compared to Harry's office at OsCorp or anything at the top of Avengers Tower, but it was okay. Flash took Peter's picture standing by the windows ("To prove you actually do stuff besides science.") and then Peter took Flash's picture. Then they left the small crown room and headed three hundred fifty-four steps back down to the ground and the rest of the island and museum.

Flash made fun of the information plaques in both of the museums they visited. Whenever he got asked to take someone's picture, he threw that person at Peter while expounding on Peter's 'amazing camera skills.' They were surrounded by families and single travelers on vacation, by couples young and old, by kids on field trips. Seeing all of them so happy to be there, soaking it up, made Peter feel better than catching dozens of bad guys over the past week had done. Overall, there was nothing about the trip to the Statue of Liberty that made Peter miss Gwen less, but it did make him love his city more.

When Flash left him at home that evening, Peter sucked up his courage and pulled the taller man into a hug. After a moment's surprised hesitation, Flash actually hugged Peter back.

"Thanks, Flash," Peter said quietly into Flash's shoulder. "I'm...I'm really glad you're my friend."

Flash's arms tightened around him. "Same here, Peter. You need anything, I'm here for you. Remember that."

Then he pulled back, slapped his hands lightly against Peter's shoulders like that made the hug less mushy or something, and walked away.

…

…

_tbc_


	9. Chapter 9

"Okay. Recap. Our target is Morgan Fournier. We have intel linking them to a terrorist group known as the Rouge Sommeil, or the Red Slumber, which we believe has ties to old HYDRA members."

Peter paid close attention to Natasha's words as the jet whisked the Avengers off to some other continent. He'd never been so far from home before, but he refused to get sidetracked on his first Avengers mission. He was already the youngest team member, he wouldn't be the weak link.

Steve took over. "Like HYDRA, Rouge Sommeil is trying to create superior soldiers."

"Well, at least the bad guys are consistent," Tony quipped from where he was, ostensibly, flying the plane. He wasn't even touching the controls at this point. Autopilot. "Everybody wants super soldiers. Even the U.S."

"Wait," Peter broke in. "You've had missions like this in the U.S.? People being turned into super soldiers?" He looked to the Captain. "Other than, you know, you. Obviously. That wasn't an Avengers-I'm gonna stop talking now."

Bruce, sitting near the back of the jet, looked both mildly amused and mildly concerned. Clint, sitting closer to Peter, just looked amused.

"Yes and no," Tony commented unhelpfully from the front.

"There have been programs with the intention of recreating the super soldier serum that resulted in Captain America's abilities," Natasha clarified. "None that have required the Avengers to intervene. Then again, we're still a pretty young group."

Shifting in a manner that could almost be called uncomfortable, Steve got them back on track. "The Rouge Sommeil are attempting to use radiation to cause fundamental changes to a person's DNA, mutations that give them extra powers."

Though he didn't say anything, Peter frowned. That wasn't what radiation did, normally. Most kinds of radiation either gave you cancer or killed you. He knew the Hulk had been created by an abundance of gamma radiation, but he also knew that most people on the planet would die if they tried to recreate that result. So either the Rouge Sommeil had come up with a new way to use radiation, created a new form of radiation, or they were insane and attempting something they should know to be impossible.

"So we go in and steal or destroy their research and tools, I assume?" Clint asked. "Do we capture or take out the baddies?"

Steve crossed his arms and leaned against the side of the jet. "The hope is to take them by surprise. We've been observing their activities for the past few days," he looked at Natasha, who gave a mildly terrifying smile, "and found a way in that won't set off any alarms. Most of the people inside are low level scientists or workers for other projects and companies that wouldn't have a lot to tell us about what Rouge Sommeil are up to, so simply getting them out of the way would be the easiest choice. If you find Morgan Fournier, capture them and return to the jet. Otherwise, yes, destroy their machines and either steal or destroy their research."

…

…

The location of Rouge Sommeil's science experiments was actually inside a much larger science facility in western France. From the outside, Peter couldn't tell what was happening in any given building in the place. He only knew which one they were aiming for because Tony had displayed the blueprints of the place for them in the jet and they'd all walked through the process of getting in and out as quietly as possible.

Thinking back on what happened last time the Avengers fought in New York, Peter kind of doubted the mission would stay quiet. Then again, he had no idea how many missions the Avengers had run without anyone knowing about them. Maybe they could do this without any big incidents.

There was nowhere for the jet to land, so Tony had it simply do a fly by and then dropped the whole team out through the bottom hanger like too much baggage. The early autumn air was even colder up in the sky, but Peter wasn't so much concerned with the chill as he was with _not dying because his godfather was insane._

"Okay I know some of us can fly and others can survive giant falls but I'm not one of them so what am I supposed to do now?!" Peter shouted over the rushing wind.

Over the earpiece under his mask came Tony's teasing response, _"This would be a great time to have that Iron Spider suit, eh, pipsqueak?"_

"That's not funny!" Peter snapped, the ground coming up fast.

_"Use your webbing to stop your fall,"_ Natasha said calmly.

Peter flipped around in the air until he could see her, looking as calm as could be as she plummeted to her death. Then Clint was coming into range beside her. They clasped hands, which Natasha used to pull herself chest to back with Clint. Then Clint notched an arrow and aimed it at the tallest building near them. He didn't fire, but Peter knew that somehow that arrow was gonna save both of them from a hard landing.

Twisting the other way showed Tony, in the Iron Man suit, falling while keeping his arms around Steve's waist, ready to use his flight capabilities to land safely on a building's roof. No one was near Bruce, but even as Peter watched, the quiet scientist's skin was turning green.

_Okay okay okay. On your own then. They obviously think you're capable of this. Think of something, Peter,_ he thought to himself, turning to face the ground again. It was already much closer than it had been.

There were two buildings that were pretty close together, one of them being the lab they needed to infiltrate. If Peter angled himself enough, he could land directly between them. Now all he had to do was find a way to stop himself from being a pancake.

Activating his web shooters, Peter created what could almost be considered a web hammock between the two buildings. Then he did it again, and again, and again, until he was too close to shoot more web. He turned until his back faced the webbing and let himself fall the last dozen or so feet. He landed, and the webbing stretched down about a foot before snapping back up, sending Peter into the air again. His head passed the edge of the roof and then he was going down toward his webbing. Again the webbing stretched a little down before it snapped back up, sending Peter once more into the air.

_I was going for 'net' but I'll take 'trampoline,'_ Peter mused.

He saw Tony and Steve land on the roof next to him and bounced up into view with his arms crossed. "You know, if you're gonna drop someone out of a plane without a parachute, you could give him a little warning."

Maybe next time he could just web himself a parachute, since he could apparently make trampolines.

Stepping back from the captain, but only by a step, Tony gave a big shrug. "I would've caught you if I didn't think you could handle it."

Still bouncing, Peter glared, though no one could see it through the mask. "You're such a liar, Tony." Then he angled a bounce and landed on the roof beside the two older men.

"You think quick on your feet, kiddo."

Peter just barely kept himself from jumping at the voice and turned to see Clint somehow standing right next to him, Natasha walking over to their group as if she had all the time in the world.

"Banner's a building over and moving toward us," Natasha informed them all, eyes on the display at her wrist. "We should get inside in case someone saw us."

They were heading for the roof access door when the Hulk climbed up the edge of the building. Steve nodded a greeting. "Stay here and keep watch," he said. "If things go wrong inside…," he hesitated, as if momentarily overcome by the idea of how things could go wrong, and then finished, "start smashing things."

The Hulk nodded with an anticipatory gleam in his eyes. Peter hurried to follow the others inside, not wanting to be around if the Hulk starting smashing things prematurely.

While the labs and meeting rooms inside the building had nothing on OsCorp, Peter was endlessly curious about all tech and experiments being done in each one. Sadly, the rest of the team was pretty set on just invalidating them all.

They'd split up to check different rooms, leaving Peter alone for a short while. Judging by the sounds coming from the other rooms, a lot of scientific instruments were being broken. After scanning the papers around the room, Peter grabbed a prepared slide from a pressurized case and slid it under the microscope nearby. He saw red blood cells that looked engorged and misshapen, like they were sick. He'd just zoomed in to get a better look at the makeup of those cells when a metal hand grabbed him by the side of the head and pulled him away. "Hey!"

"Gotta move faster, kid," Tony said, placing his hands on his hips. "What's taking so long?"

Peter motioned to the microscope. "I was trying to see if any of their work had actually produced viable reactions," he explained. "The notes they wrote were really vague about the outcome of their experiments."

Tony's mask pulled away from his face as he sighed. "S.H.I.E.L.D. already did research gathering on these guys. We know they've started human experimentation with radiation. We also know they haven't managed to keep any of their subjects alive yet. So our job is to stop them from continuing those experiments and endangering more lives. Sadly, that means we don't have time to explore all their research right now."

As much as the rebuke hurt, Peter knew Tony was right. If they took the time to read everything and check everything, they'd get caught before they ever found Morgan Fournier or the lab where the actual radiation experiments took place. Hunching his shoulders, Peter nodded to show he understood.

Tony sighed again and placed his hands on Peter's shoulders. "I totally understand the curiosity, squirt. If we had the time, I'd be right in here with you checking it out. But we gotta go now."

Thus when Tony began to break slides and shred reports, Peter reluctantly joined in. He knew it was for the best – they didn't want anyone trying to recreate the experiments using this data later – but he couldn't help but mourn for all the time and effort and possible scientific breakthroughs they were destroying.

…

…

Finding the main lab was actually easier than Peter expected. Whenever he saw movies about this kind of thing, the lab was the lowest or most center room and the heroes had to battle through a sea of minor bad guys to get to it. In reality, he found a fire exit route map and picked the room labeled with the universal radiation symbol, memorized the map and followed it to that room. Surprising that no one else had thought of that, actually. They were supposed to be geniuses - or at least really smart.

The doors opened into a control room with a dozen computer systems running in it, and a big window into a separate part of the room with lab tables with restraints on them lined up in rows. In the ceiling Peter saw the kind of lights he expected in tanning beds.

"That must be where the radiation comes from," Peter mused quietly. "Always knew there was a reason I hated tanning salons."

His spider-sense went off in time for him to duck out of the way of a throwing knife, which embedded itself in the glass of the window into the radiation room. Facing the direction it'd come from, Peter saw a woman in her mid-forties with dark hair that hung just to her chin in perfect ringlets. Beside her was a tall redhead in French army battledress, her arm still extended from when she'd thrown the knife.

"I'd ask who you are," the dark haired woman said with a thick French accent, "but I recognize New York's infamous Spider-man. So instead I will ask, what are you doing in my lab?"

Peter gestured toward the knife in the glass. "You know you're gonna have to replace that before you can do any more radiation work in the other room, right? That's not safe anymore. Maybe you shouldn't let your people throw sharp objects at it. Just a thought."

The dark haired woman and the redhead both glowered at him. "Once more and then I will not ask again. What is Spider-man doing in my lab?"

Before Peter could answer, the redhead gave a jolt and fell to her knees, revealing Natasha behind her with her gloves still crackling with electricity. "I found him. And the lab," she said, obviously to the rest of the team. "Ground floor, northeast corner." Turning her focus on the dark haired woman, she said, "Morgan Fournier, I assume?"

Madame Fournier took one measured step away from Natasha. "I will see you both killed," she said. She was now in reach of the wall and a light switch. However, when she flipped the switch, instead of turning off the lights, a beeping sounded throughout the room.

"What's that?" Peter asked. "That doesn't sound good."

With barely the sound of a footstep, there were six more soldiers in the room with them. None of them were as tall as the redhead, who was pushing herself to her feet again, but they all looked murderous and strong. Natasha kicked the redhead in the back of the knees to keep her down.

Morgan Fournier barely glanced at her soldiers as she said, "Kill the intruders."

Peter dodged a punch from a guy big enough to crush his head in one hand and sprayed webbing over his eyes. But as soon as that guy took a step back to pull at the webbing, a much shorter soldier took his place. The woman was maybe five foot two and, other than her expression, looked as dangerous as a sixth grader playing dress up.

Which is exactly the reasoning Peter would give later for why she was able to get in close, grab him, and throw him into and entirely through the glass window into the main lab.

He gave a little yelp as he landed sideways on one of the lab tables and then rolled off it onto the floor. "Ow," he said like a curse word.

The short woman jumped into the room with him and Peter grimaced. He grabbed a chair and tossed it at her, but she actually caught it in mid air and threw it back at him. He ducked behind one of the tables.

"So I think it's safe to assume that some of their test subjects actually did survive," Peter said to his com unit. "Unless all short people are this strong. Also, I'm now in a recently irradiated room. Not sure if that's mildly bad or terribly bad, but I'm pretty sure that's bad."

There was no answer, but an increase in noise level and a glance through the broken window showed that the other Avengers had joined them. A second soldier landed in the room, followed shortly by Captain America. Then Peter's attention was diverted by the woman he was meant to be fighting when she grabbed him and threw him into the wall.

"If you could stop throwing me into things, I'd really appreciate it," Peter groaned as he stood up.

The woman lifted an eyebrow as if she thought he were a bit dimwitted. Then she ran at him. Peter shot webbing at the roof and used it to vault over her. She turned around and aimed a punch at him but Peter grabbed her hand with webbing and then darted behind her, then around her, and used his web shooters to tie her arm up and around her neck so she couldn't use it anymore.

"Violence isn't the answer to your problems," Peter commented blithely as she struggled to move her arm. "Have you tried therapy? Or I hear tea is pretty great for calming down."

"Oh my god, stop talking!" the woman growled.

Peter gasped and put his hands on his cheeks. "You can speak!"

She rolled her eyes. "I can't wait to get my hands on you again. I'm gonna wring your neck."

When she shot out her left hand, Peter back flipped out of the way and landed back to back with Steve. "Oh, hey Cap."

Steve pushed them both down as the man he was fighting struck out with a bladed weapon Peter didn't recognize. Peter webbed his feet together and then he and Steve made for the broken window. This time, Peter pulled Steve to the side as one of Tony's power blasts shot through the window and into the lights in the ceiling, causing sparks to fly. Then Steve hefted Peter over the wall first, even though Peter really didn't need the help, and followed after.

Okay, Peter had noted how large the computer room was when he first entered, but it looked a hell of a lot smaller with Natasha, Clint, Tony, Steve, Morgan, himself, and all four of Morgan's other soldiers crammed into it and fighting.

Several of the computers were now sparking or crushed and Peter wondered if Morgan really thought this through. There was one soldier with several arrows sticking out of him lying in a corner, and the rest looked worse for wear. Natasha's hair was in disarray, Tony's suit was scuffed, Clint had a cut on his arm, but other than that the team looked great.

Then the tall redhead pulled a knife. Peter saw it and that the woman's attention was on Clint, who had his back turned as he faced off in close combat with another soldier. Instead of shouting a warning to Clint, Peter hurried forward and grabbed the tall soldier by the arm before she could throw.

She grabbed his arm and flipped him over onto the computer consoles so hard that Peter was pretty sure he heard something crack inside of him as well as outside. From the broken window came the short woman from before, and it seemed the man was making an effort to return as well despite his webbed feet.

For a moment, Peter had the inane thought that this room wasn't big enough for all of them. Then his spider sense went off just before the sparking lights in the radiation room turned to fire on the roof. He shot webbing out, grabbing the short woman and guy with the webbed together feet by their chests and ripping them through the window frame just before a section of the lights would've fallen and crushed them. Then he kicked out at the redhead as she aimed the knife down at him, knocking her back just far enough that Peter could jump off a console and get out of her way.

A quick inventory told him that Natasha was gone, and so was Morgan Fournier. All but one of the super soldiers was still fighting, even though they were taking way more hits than the Avengers were.

Jarvis must have alerted Tony to the fire because he said, without ever turning to face it, "Okay, time to wrap this up. Unless you all like becoming barbecue."

Peter punched the redhead in the jaw and she returned the motion. He couldn't get out of the way, but he did roll with the punch to prevent most of the damage it would've caused.

The radiation room was sparking more as the fire ate its way across the roof. Burning pieces of ceiling and light fixtures fell to the floor, spreading the flames throughout the room. It was only a matter of time before they reached the computer room too.

Peter ducked between the redhead's legs when she swiped at him with her knife and then made a dash for the door. Tony blasted the super soldier fighting him in the face and the guy collided with the wall from the force, making a large dent in it.

Peter used Tony as leverage to twist out of the way just as the redhead's knife went flying by him. He felt it graze his back anyway, but the pain from the wound didn't hit him until he'd landed on the other side of Tony. He whimpered, but in the immortal words of Monty Python, it was just a flesh wound. Ducking under Tony's raised arm, Peter shot webbing at the redhead's face. She tried to catch it or block it, but all she managed to do was get her hand webbed against her mouth.

"Time to go!" Tony yelled, using his lifted arm to scoop Peter up like a child in trouble. Or a dog.

Facing the room as Tony carried him out of it, Peter got to watch as the redhead used her free hand to pull another knife from her belt. Before she could throw it, the short woman with her arm webbed up and around her neck got between her and Peter.

"Stop!" she shouted, then motioned to the man with webbed together feet. She began speaking rapidly in French.

The last thing Peter saw of that room was the redhead shoving the short woman aside and throwing her knife. It embedded itself in the wall outside of the room as Tony headed down the hallway. Then there was a rumbling, as if the roof in that room was caving in. Clouds of dust and smoke issued from the door.

"Put me down, I can walk on my own," Peter groused. He hated not seeing where they were going. He hated watching that room collapse on itself and its super soldier occupants.

Tony did as Peter asked without complaint. There was red on his armor's arm that wasn't the hot rod color it was painted. Tony seemed to notice it at the same time Peter did, but just as he began to speak, the wall of the lab blew outward, flames crashing into the opposite wall along with rubble.

"Really really really time to go!" Peter repeated Tony's earlier words, and began racing down the hallway away from what used to be the radiation room.

"Where's everyone?" Tony asked over the com system as he flew next to Peter. "We've got to either evacuate the building or get some kind of fire control in here. Fire's spreading."

One of the super soldiers staggered into view from an adjoining hallway, an arrow stuck to his chest. It exploded into purple smoke and the guy's eyes rolled up into his head. Clint followed after him, his outfit torn in several places, a new cut on his cheek, and a crack in his shades. "I guess I'll start with moving this guy outside?"

"Where's Black Widow?" Peter asked.

Clint waved in no particular direction. "She captured Fournier and went to hail the jet for a pick up."

"Cap?" Tony asked.

_"The last super soldier is down. Second floor is empty of people,"_ Steve's voice came over the coms. _"Iron man, check the other floors. Hulk, get us an exit."_

There was a moment where all that Peter heard was Clint hefting the super soldier over his shoulder and the sound of the fire and crumbling walls. Then Tony shifted. "The building's clear," he said, sounding a bit shocked. "Fournier must've cleared everyone out when she called her goons."

Or they were the only ones there to begin with. After all, Peter hadn't seen anyone on his way down to the lab in the first place. He didn't bother to voice this idea.

A crack appeared in the roof and then Peter's spider sense went off one last time. He grabbed Tony and flung him down the hall toward Clint as hard as he could just as a larger explosion rocked the building, then he flipped around and shot webbing at the walls of the hallway behind them. A wall of webbing covered the entire area between them and the fire now racing at them from the radiation room.

The web shooters clicked empty. The blast of fire and rubble hit the web wall with the force of a runaway train.

"Spider-man-," Clint got out before the web wall gave way to the force and blew them all back.

Peter's ears rang and he ached all over. There was dark smoke clouding the hallway and the electricity seemed to have shorted out. He felt pinned down but he didn't know by what. Flames licked along the walls like living vines of death.

He heard a roar that he thought might be the Hulk, but it was hard to tell over the ringing. Someone touched his shoulder and he whined because it hurt. Whatever was pinning him down left and it was like he could breathe again.

"Spider-man," Tony said. "You gotta get up, kid."

Peter tried to do as he was told but his chest screamed at him when he made to sit up and he was forced back down with a pained whimper.

This is what Gwen was afraid of. Peter couldn't focus on anything around him and his whole body ached like a million tiny stinging needles. Gwen had broken up with him so she wouldn't have to sit at home wondering if he was alive or dead. She wasn't sitting up, waiting for him to call her after this mission was over. She didn't even know he was on this mission.

Flash. Flash would know if something happened to him before Gwen. Flash would come to pick him up tomorrow. Peter didn't think he'd be there though. It was a shame. Flash had been so good to him lately. No, not lately, not just since the breakup. Since being his bodyguard. Since becoming friends.

Friends? Harry! What would Harry do if Peter just disappeared? If Peter was announced dead? What would he do to Flash?

"-man. Spider-man!"

The crack in the roof was getting bigger. He could see it behind Iron Man's masked head. "Tony-," he tried to say in warning.

"Peter."

His name, spoken in relief, was the last thing Peter heard before he lost consciousness entirely.


	10. Chapter 10

The ball went through the net without a struggle and cheers went up around the court. Flash caught the ball before it hit the ground and then bounced it back toward the center of the court. Days off were cool because he got to hang out with his basketball buddies, even if it meant he wasn't hanging out with Peter.

"Hey, Flash," Marcus called out. "Where's Parker today?"

"Yeah, man. That guy was pretty cool. What, did you guys break up?" one of the guys from the other team asked, teasing but curious.

Flash threw the basketball into the guy's chest and snorted. "Get real, Brodie. Peter's busy and it's Tuesday. It's my day off." He held his hands out in the universal sign for 'pass me the ball', but Brodie just frowned at him. Finally, Flash sighed. "Oh come on, guys. Look, if I promise to bring him next time, can we get on with the game?"

"Totally." Brodie grinned and tossed the ball over to Marcus.

"It's a deal," his co-captain agreed, also smiling,

The game ended up being neck and neck the whole time, and Marcus made a quiet comment about how they'd won by way more when Peter had been there. Not that Peter was better than Flash, he said, but the silent communication between Peter and Flash was a chemistry that could not be beat. Flash grunted back that Marcus was being overdramatic.

That night, he stared out his window and imagined Spider-man coming through to give him cake again, or maybe Peter climbing up the fire escape. But why would Peter be climbing up the fire escape? To bring him cake? Whatever the reason, Flash was pretty sure that was something that only happened in dreams for him. He snorted. Imagining Peter climbing ten floors just to bring him a present… how ridiculous. And then he shut the window and went to bed.

The next morning, he woke up, turned on the news, and got ready for work. It was still early, some two hours before he had to be across town to pick Peter up, but the last time he pushed it, he ended up having to leave without brushing his teeth and wearing the wrong shirt.

" _Reports claim the factory explosion in a small city east of Bordeaux, France was related to an Avenger mission,"_ the news reporter on screen said, catching Flash as he walked toward the kitchen. He stopped his progress to look at the picture of a destroyed building. _"Sources show the factory had been controlled by a group of terrorists known as the Red Slumber, although what they were using the building for is unclear. Just after the initial explosions rocked the building, the Avenger's jet was spotted leaving the area by satellites. As of this morning, neither the team nor S.H.I.E.L.D. has come forward with a statement, but one eye witness claims to have seen Iron Man flying away with a body in his arms that appeared to be New York's own wall-crawler."_

" _I hope not, Justine,"_ the other anchor chimed in. _"Can't imagine what the city would do without him."_

The anchors then debated if Spider-man would even be out of the city at all and why he would be with the Avengers. Apparently news that Spider-man was an Avenger now wasn't widely known, but Flash knew and he slapped his hands down on the back of his couch to hold himself up.

Had Spider-man been seriously injured on a mission? Surely… Surely Tony would tell him, right? Or… probably not because Flash wasn't on the team. Just because he'd recommended Spider-man for the team didn't make Flash in the loop. But Peter! Peter had been at the Tower yesterday, right? If the Avengers had a mission, they would have ended up back at the Tower. Peter would know. Flash would just have to ask Peter when he saw him today.

At that moment, his phone rang.

"Eugene Thompson," he answered when he saw it was from OsCorp.

" _Mr. Thompson. Good, it sounds like I caught you in time,"_ a friendly woman's voice said. It was Harry's secretary. _"I'm calling to let you know that your services won't be required today. Mr. Parker is spending the day with Mr. Stark again. However,"_ she said, cutting off the argument Flash was about to say, _"you are still required to attend your courses. Understood?"_

"Understood," he answered even though he didn't understand at all.

The line cut off and Flash frowned at his phone, then at the TV. How was he supposed to ask Peter about Spider-man if...? Oh! That made sense! If an Avenger was injured, Peter was probably helping out at the Tower today. He knew the Avengers, and he was a brilliant scientist. They probably needed his help with something biological or something. Right?

It would be rude to call him and ask, though. With a sigh, Flash walked around and sank onto his couch. The news was on to a more local story, but Flash tuned it out. What now? He had two days free now, and he wouldn't see Peter until Friday. What should he do?

Wow, it had never been so difficult to fill his free time before.

…

…

Wednesday and Thursday came and went, filled with classes and combat training at OsCorp and, surprisingly, reading. Like, not for school or work. He read for, dare he admit it, fun. On Friday, he got up, turned on the news, and prepared for going to get Peter. In his head, he was trying to pick out how to ask Peter about Avenger secrets without being rude, but his thoughts were interrupted by his phone ringing. His stomach dropped.

The last time OsCorp called during his morning prep, it had been to say he wasn't needed. But... But it had been two days. Peter had to be home again, right?

"Eugene Thomp-," he began, but was interrupted.

 _"Mr. Thompson,"_ Harry Osborn himself said, sounding mildly irritated. _"Peter is not in need of your protection today."_

"Again?" Flash found himself asking with a whine, even though he knew he should be professional about this.

 _"Yes. Precisely. You seem to be of a similar thought to mine."_ That seemed to please Harry, although Flash doubted they were thinking the same thing at all. _"I want you to go visit Mr. Stark today. Find Peter and report back to me about what has him cooped up in that tower for four days."_

"Sir?" Flash asked and turned off his television.

Sighing, Harry said, _"Mr. Thompson. Flash. I understand how important family is to Peter, and I know Mr. Stark is 'the world's greatest godfather', but Tony Stark is also the unofficial C.E.O. of the world's largest technology producer. His charm is legendary, and I will not have him poaching Peter just because he knows Peter has a soft spot for him. So please, will you do this for me? Find Peter."_

Maybe it was the way Harry changed it from an order to a request at the end, or maybe Harry was just a good manipulator and knew Flash would do anything to make sure Peter was safe, or maybe both, but Flash agreed to go. Alone. To Avengers Tower.

It was definitely more intimidating walking in alone as opposed to with Peter. The guards watched him more carefully, but he had no bag or weapon so they didn't stop him. The elevator was the part he was most worried about, though.

"Jarvis?" He called out when the doors had shut but the elevator wasn't moving.

 _"Good morning, Mr. Thompson,"_ the A.I. greeted. _"How may I assist you?"_

"Is Peter upstairs?" Maybe that was a stupid question.

After a brief pause, Jarvis was back. _"Mr. Parker is indeed in the building."_

They lapsed into silence again, awkward and embarrassing even though his conversation partner was a computer, and then Flash cleared his throat. "Okay. Well, um... Can I go see him?"

 _"It is ill-advised,"_ was the immediate response. Flash frowned, his mind full of questions and confusions, and Jarvis seemed to sense that. _"Mr. Parker is in the medical wing, and Mr. Stark has limited access to only a select few individuals."_

Medical wing? So he was helping out with Spider-man after all! Or- Or was Peter the one injured? No. Peter had been at the Tower the whole time. How could he have been injured? As Peter had said, what place was safer than Avengers Tower? Well... unless someone was destroying it, but it looked to be in perfect condition.

"Jarvis. Please." Flash did his best to look and sound earnest. "I haven't heard from him in four days. I'm worried about him. I promise, I won't spill any secrets or anything. I just want to make sure Peter's okay."

The elevator went quiet, and Flash felt silly. He was begging a computer to let him in. Computers were based on data and what their operators gave them. If Tony told Jarvis not to let anyone up, there was no amount of begging that would sway the computer. Damn it. Were there stairs somewhere? There had to be stairs. But how far up was the medical wing? The Tower was over a hundred stories.

Before he could completely resign himself, the elevator began to hum with movement. " _Mr. Parker is making a full recovery, but you are not the first to not take my word for it. You will find him in medical room B. The Captain is there as well. I will deny breaking code for you."_

Relief hit Flash like a bullet and he fell back against the wall. "Thank you, Jarvis." But then that relief was replaced by anxiety. Full recovery? So... So Peter was the one injured? But how had he been hurt? When? How bad was it?

The doors couldn't open fast enough. Jarvis was silent the whole time, but Flash would have ignored him anyway. As soon as there was space for him to get off, he was moving quickly down the hall. Medical room A was unoccupied, but B had the light on and Captain America was leaning back against the glass on the inside. Well... Steve Rogers was, at least.

Slowing, Flash tried to look into the room without the occupants noticing him. Past the form of Steve Rogers, he saw a doctor in a white coat and a nurse in maroon scrubs. They were hovering around someone, and the nurse appeared to be applying some kind of medical lotion. When the doctor shifted away to check something on one of the screens, Flash's stomach fell.

"Peter," he said in a breath, like someone had punched him in the gut. Steve glanced over at him then, but he didn't seem upset.

Maybe Flash could be upset for both of them. Because there Peter was, sitting on the hospital bed, his chest a painful combination of bruises. Yellow, blue, and purple bruises covered his ribs, just like the ones Flash had seen in the mirror growing up on his own torso, on his mom's face.

When he tried to walk into the room, Steve put a gentle hand out to stop him. "Hold up, son," he said quietly. "Let them finish."

"What-… What happened?" Flash asked, hands fisting at his sides. Avengers Tower was the safest place in New York. If he repeated it enough, maybe the bruising on Peter would fade.

A sympathetic smile played with Steve's lips. "You can ask Peter in a minute. But I promise, it's not as bad as it looks."

"It looks like he got hit by a car," Flash snapped, and he was loud enough for Peter to notice this time. He looked up, startled, and then gave a nervous smile. Or maybe it was an apology. He was a little too far away and Flash was a little too tense to notice the difference.

For a moment, Steve said nothing, just watched Flash's body language. And there was something inherently anxiety-inducing about being analyzed by Captain America, but Flash could barely contain his urge to rush into the room, so he had little energy left to worry about looking appropriate for Steve.

Finally, Steve made a sound of agreement. "I know how it feels," he said. When Flash looked up at him, the Avenger motioned toward Peter with his head. "To see him hurt and not be able to do anything to help. It's not a pleasant feeling, but you have to learn to live with it. Because the minute you start trying to tell him what he can or can't do, try to control what he feels he has to do, that's the minute you lose him."

"Sir?" Flash looked back to Peter, back to where the nurse and doctor were wrapping his chest up in bandages. He didn't want to lose Peter, not at all, but those bruises... Shouldn't he at least express his concern? If not to Peter, then to- "Hey, where's Mr. Stark?"

Jarvis had said only Steve was there, and he was right. There was no Tony Stark in sight. Wasn't this his tower? Wasn't this his godson?

Sighing, Steve settled heavier against the wall. "Tony...," he began but then hesitated. "Not all people deal with guilt by staying nearby their loved ones."

"Guilt?" Flash asked, and anger bubbled up in him again. He did his best not to let it cloud his judgment.

"Tony blames himself for what happened to Peter. It wasn't his fault. At least, not entirely. Peter made choices too. But Tony doesn't see things the way other people do. If there's a way to blame himself, he'll do it, with gusto. I'm sure, in his mind, Peter was an innocent bystander caught in the whirlwind of Tony's bad decisions." He sighed again. "And, like I said, sometimes you can't do anything to help them when they're hurting. So Tony's in his workshop, and I'm up here."

The doctor finished off the bandages and said a few last words to Peter, then the nurse was helping him lean slowly back on the bed, which was raised up into a reclined position so he could watch TV if nothing else. Flash frowned anew when he saw the way Peter winced at the movement.

"And I'm up here too," came a new voice. Flash jumped slightly and turned around, finding a man dressed in blacks and purples and wearing shades inside. "Oh don't mind me. I'm just no one. Just passing through."

Steve chuckled and shook his head. "Flash, this is Clint Barton. Clint, this is Flash, Peter's friend."

"Uh. Hi," Flash said and offered his hand to shake.

Ignoring the gesture, Clint reached up and removed his glasses. "Hell of a name, Flash," he said. "Good to meet you, I'm sure. Exciting stuff, huh? Little Peter looks like a building fell on him, eh?"

"Clint," Steve said, tone warning, but the new guy didn't seem to mind him.

"Yeah, almost like the ceiling broke his ribs or something. But, you know, that would probably kill a person. Would probably kill me, at least. But maybe I'm just old." Clint sidled past the two blonde men and further into the room. "Peter! Good to see you're still breathing, man!"

Peter's face lit up with excitement at the sight of his new visitor, so at least Peter approved of him, right? Flash wasn't so sure about the guy. This was no time to joke about buildings falling on people. Broken ribs weren't funny, and neither was tons of cement and rebar crushing Peter's body. What kind of jerk-

"Seriously, don't mind him," Steve said, breaking into his thoughts. "Clint likes to prod where he knows it'll agitate people."

"Well he succeeded," Flash grumbled.

Watching Clint and Peter talk only made him more annoyed, actually. They got along pretty good, from what Flash could tell, and there were no apologetic or guilty smiles exchanged. This was one more friend of Peter's that Flash didn't know, and this one probably didn't have to beg the security system to let him in. Jealous? Yeah, okay. Flash was extremely jealous. He wanted to be one of those people that got an excited smile from Peter when he showed up. He wanted to be one of those people that got a damn phone call about their friend being hurt at all.

Why wasn't he one of those people?

Suddenly, Clint turned and beckoned for Flash to come over. Animatedly. Surprised, Flash glanced at Steve and wondered if they were waving at the Captain instead. But Steve just smiled and shook his head before nudging the bodyguard further into the room.

"Don't strain yourself, kid. Let those ribs heal up nice and pretty before you try anymore stunts, you hear? Now talk to your buddy. He looks like he might combust if you don't and we don't need anymore fires happening." Clint winked at Peter, who looked slightly mortified by that last comment, and then slipped his shades back on. "Have fun, _Flash_."

The sassy man stepped away then and didn't stop until Steve caught him in the hall, but by then Flash couldn't hear them anymore. Peter looked better up close. His face wasn't pale, and the bruising seemed limited to what was under the wrapping. His hair was messy, er, messier than usual, and he seemed slightly tired, but mostly he looked... normal.

"Fire?" Flash asked. One of the bruises was visible, peeking out above the bandage on Peter's chest. "Peter, what the hell happened?"

"Uh... An explosion?" Peter said, looking sheepish. Flash's jaw set, hard, and Peter brought his arm up to hold off any response. The movement caused him obvious discomfort, and that stopped Flash more than the actual arm. "But I'm okay! I'm okay! I was messing around in the lab, and there was a, um, a miscalculation, let's say. And then I had a run-in with a wall. But I'm fine!"

"Fine?! Peter, you're purple!" Flash exclaimed.

"Okay. A really _hard_ run-in with a wall," Peter amended, slightly irritated. "But I'm gonna be fine. The doctor says I can go back home tomorrow, and then we can get back to normal."

"Normal?" Flash's hand came up to rest on the bandage by the visible bruise. Despite his angry tone, his touch was careful. "Peter, I've had bruises like this. You're going to be functioning at half-speed for a week at least. We can't be playing basketball and running around the city like normal until you're healed." He frowned. "Were you… Did you think I wouldn't understand? Were you trying to hide this from me?"

From Flash, the guy who protected him? The guy who had experience with bruises? He knew the limitations Peter would need better than most. Why would Peter hide this?

"What? No." Peter frowned too and put a hand on Flash's. "Flash, I just didn't want to worry people. I haven't told Aunt May or anyone."

"Clint knew. And who the hell is he?" There went that jealousy again.

"Clint has a suite here. He's an Avenger," Peter said flatly, and Flash's face went lax with confusion. "He was there when I got hurt. Of course he knew."

Well then. Flash's chest burned with shame. He had no right to get jealous. And hadn't Steve just warned Flash about trying to control Peter? He needed to calm down and stop being judgmental or next time Peter definitely wouldn't tell him.

Next time? Would there be a next time? Flash looked at Peter's hand on top of his and frowned. Somehow he bet there would be.

"I'm sorry," he murmured and pulled his hand back. Peter let him go. "You just made me really nervous. I'm not used to having four days off." It was a joke and a half lie, but he felt so bad about how he'd been acting.

Thankfully, Peter laughed. Then he winced. "I'm not leaving, Flash. Despite what Harry probably thinks, I'm not joining Stark Industries. And I'm not putting you out of a job." He was smiling through the ache, Flash could tell, but the effort made the blonde's chest feel good. "And I'm sorry too. I should have called you earlier instead of just telling Harry I was busy. That wasn't fair."

"Yeah well… Harry's gonna want an explanation for why you were here so long, and I doubt you want me to tell him you nearly broke yourself in half. Did you have an excuse planned?" Flash slipped his hands in his pockets to stop himself from reaching out and touching Peter's chest again. That was inappropriate and too personal… no matter how much he wanted to do it.

Peter smiled conspiratorially. "Yeah, I may have come up with an excuse or two."

And really, Flash was just relieved that Peter seemed just as brilliant and witty as ever. Being slammed into a wall, or whatever had happened, didn't seem to have affected him at all where it really mattered, and for that Flash was infinitely grateful. In fact, he was so relieved that he completely forgot to ask about Spider-man and the Avengers. His mind was too focused on how to help with the needed resting time so Peter could make a full recovery as soon as possible.

Really, at this point, he didn't know what he'd do without Peter.

…

…

By Monday, Peter's bruising had cleared up. He got minor aches when stretching far, but even that was so minimal that he almost didn't register it was happening. Of course, he couldn't tell Flash about that because only two days prior, he'd seen Peter's chest various shades of dark purple and normal people didn't heal that fast. For the sake of normalcy, he had to pretend to be injured for another week, which is really why he'd tried hiding it in the first place.

But he didn't have to pretend all the time. Because sometimes he was Spider-Man and sometimes he was in class. Thank God for class. Peter had always loved school, well the learning part anyway, and college only fed that love more. The other students were pretty cool too. Most of the class engaged easily in class discussion, and Peter could see the great scientists and technicians of the future, of the present, in his classmates. What could be more wonderful than hanging out with them for two hours?

The Monday after his broken rib incident – because yeah, they'd been broken – Peter was enjoying their presence more than normal. When class let out, he actually sighed with disappointment because that meant he had to go act sore for Flash. He collected his belongings calmly, slower than normal, and then assumed the position: slightly hunched back, slouching shoulders, minor limp, hand touching the opposite hip from time to time.

"Hey, Peter," a young woman greeted as he neared the door. She was a sweet brunette that seemed to be of a similar mind as Peter on many of the topics they discussed in class, and Peter was sure they could be friends if they spoke out of class more.

"Hey, Aubrey." He raised his hand in a tiny wave, already in character for being injured.

"You alright? I didn't think so in class, but you're limping." She put her hand on his shoulder gently as they entered the hall. Several benches down, Flash was starting to pack up the textbook and papers he was working on.

"What? Yeah. I'm fine. Don't worry about me. Minor lab accident," Peter assured and waved his hand more enthusiastically to emphasize his point.

Aubrey smiled and lifted her shoulders. "Well I guess I'll have to take your word for it. And anyway, I'm sure your cute boyfriend is making certain you're taken care of, right?"

The last few days saw Peter stumbling for the act, but now he stumbled for real. "Wh-What? My what? N-No, you've got it all-," he tried to say, stumbling over his words too, but a third speaker cut into the conversation.

"Hey, Peter. Ready to go?" It was Flash. He stood there, smiling calmly and looking expectant, completely unaware of the allegation recently thrown at him. When Flash took in Peter's flustered state, he frowned a bit. "You okay?"

While Peter flubbed his way through trying to say he was fine, Aubrey just laughed and had no trouble speaking. "Oh, he's fine," she said and successfully quieted Peter's failed attempt at words. "You take good care of him, okay? He's gonna be the next Tony Stark."

That got an ironic laugh out of Flash. "Sure thing, ma'am."

Aubrey grinned and then winked at Peter. "Oh I like him. He's a keeper." She clapped him on the shoulder. "See you on Wednesday, Peter."

"S-See you, Aubrey," Peter said with a wave, and his stomach flipped.

Flash wasn't his- She thought- But they weren't- Just because Flash was waiting for him after class- But that was because Flash was his bodyguard. It was a job. They weren't... His stomach knotted uncomfortably while his chest pounded temporarily with what felt like hope, but then he was just uncomfortable again. They weren't.

"The next Tony Stark, hm? Your classmates don't know he's your godfather, do they?" Flash asked, standing close to Peter's side.

Why did his Spidersense not warn him about people he knew getting so close? Peter did his best not to flinch. "Uh. No. It doesn't come up much. Right now I think... Only you and Gwen know. And Harry."

"I'll consider myself lucky, then."

Flash bumped their shoulders together in a signal for them to leave and Peter shifted the strap of his bag to be more comfortable. Not that it mattered. They were only four paces down the hall when Flash insisted on carrying the bag for Peter so he didn't strain his chest. If Aubrey was watching, it would only convince her even more that her assumption was right. But Flash won in the end.

"So Harry called today," Flash said as they stepped outside. "His secretary gave him my message about what you were doing with Tony for four days. Sounds like he might actually believe you were helping repair the Avengers jet. He still seemed a bit jealous, like Tony was trying to steal you away, but I told him what an honor it was to help the Avengers, and he said he agreed. So I think you're in the clear."

"Good. The last thing we need is Harry deciding it's too dangerous to go see Tony. The next step would be him saying you should wrap me in bubble wrap and lock me in my room for my own protection." Peter sighed. Harry was getting a little too protective now. The bodyguard against corporate enemies was fine, but now it seemed like he wanted to know every time Peter so much as bumped his toe.

Flash chuckled softly. "As funny as that would probably be, yeah, let's avoid that." He bumped their shoulders again, this time playfully. "Come on. Let's go by that cinnamon or spice or whatever food truck you like and then we can go back to my place and study until you want to go home. Whaddya say?"

Well, in his head, Peter said Aunt May had better cooking than Flash, but he also said Flash made a pretty great grilled cheese. He said he'd rather go skateboarding or web-slinging, but he also admitted that he needed to prep for the mid-term next week.

"Yeah, that sounds good," Peter agreed. Then he shook his head and smiled fondly. "And it's The Cinnamon Snail. Like how many times do we have to go before you remember the name?"

"Shove it, Parker," Flash said, but he was grinning. "Keep it up and I won't make you grilled cheese."

"Oh the horror," Peter replied dryly. Flash looked at him in shock, one step down from honest hurt, and Peter couldn't keep up the joke. He broke into a sly smile and shoved on Flash's shoulder. "Lighten up, Thompson," he teased.

Flash moved to shove Peter in return, but he hesitated at the last moment and barely bumped him. "Yeah. Whatever." But the words weren't as strong without the shove. Still, Peter laughed, and that made Flash smile.

It wasn't until he was getting in to bed that night that Peter realized he'd gone a whole day without thinking of Gwen.

...

...

_tbc_


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter 11**

"Oh my god. Flash. Flash look." He waited until Flash had turned away from crowd watching to point, and for Flash to follow his finger to explain. "That plane has ejector seats. Actual ejector seats. Like something from James Bond."

Flash nodded. "Yeah. It's in case something goes wrong with the plane, you can get out before it crashes."

Peter frowned. "You're no fun," he grumbled, lowering his arm and stuffing his hands in his pockets. With his hood up to protect him from the drizzle falling around them, Peter was the perfect image of a brooding teenager.

"I'm plenty fun," Flash objected with narrowed eyes.

Peter looked at him out of the side of his eyes. "You didn't think the plane painted like a tiger was cool," he accused.

Throwing his hands up, Flash said, "I never said that! All I said was I preferred the one that looked like Captain America's uniform."

"The tiger was cooler."

Flash groaned and ran a hand over his face. "You know, with your godfather so close to the guy, and you seeing him so often, I would've thought you'd like Captain America more."

A shrug. "I like him fine. He's a great guy," he admitted. "But that doesn't mean I want my jet to look like his suit. I'd rather be a tiger."

"Yeah. I bet you'd be just gggrrreeeaat at being a tiger," Flash said, sort of growling the word 'great.'

There was a moment a silence between the two men, and Peter's mouth parted slightly as he stared at Flash, and then Flash's face turned pink in delayed embarrassment. Peter couldn't hold it in. He laughed so hard he had to bend over for a minute.

"Shut up," Flash grumbled, his face growing pinker by the moment.

Peter shook his head. "I didn't expect a Tony the Tiger impression from you," he said, still giggling a bit. "You just don't seem the type to watch cereal commercials. Or eat cereal, actually."

Still pouting, Flash asked, "Oh yeah? And what does my 'type' eat then?"

Another shrug. "Protein shakes? Sausages? The money of billionaire scientists?"

That startled a laugh out of Flash and diffused any tension between them. Peter was glad for the lightened air. It had been just over a week since Flash saw Peter's bruising and, from Flash's own mouth, that meant Peter could go on outings again.

Flash had surprised him today by saying they were visiting the Intrepid Sea, Air, and Space Museum Complex. That meant walking around on top of and inside of an actual aircraft carrier that had been redesigned to host visitors and teach them about military technology, naval life, and space exploration in American history. There was also a pavilion for the space shuttle Explorer and a submarine called _The Growler_ to check out.

They'd already looked at all the planes on the flight deck of the Intrepid – the one that looked like a one or two man version of the X-Jet that showed up on the news sometimes, the Blue Angels jet that made Flash want to attend an air show, the helicopters with shark teeth and angry eyes painted on them, and all the more traditionally painted planes, jets, and copters that made Peter think back to studying the world wars in high school.

Flash then led them back inside the Intrepid aircraft carrier to continue looking around. There were plenty of exhibits to see inside. Peter didn't care as much about the Intrepid's original bell or the other really really old gear that was on display as he did about the planes housed inside the ship that could fold their wings up.

"Like X-Wings!" he'd quietly cheered. Flash just stared at him blankly, which made Peter frown. "Don't tell me you haven't seen Star Wars. No one hasn't seen Star Wars."

"I saw the first one, with the Death Star," Flash said, shrugging. "It didn't seem like my thing."

Peter rolled his eyes. "You're a Spider-man fanboy. You love superheroes. That makes you a bit of a geek. Sort of. You _need_ to watch the rest of the movies too. Even the crappy Attack of the Clones one."

He didn't get Flash to agree to watch anything. Instead, Flash pushed him toward a different exhibit to try and change the subject. Peter wouldn't forget though. No, he'd bring it up later, when Flash was least expecting it.

About that time, it hit him that this was a date. They were wandering the museum, teasing each other, and planning future dates. The air show. A movie marathon. They were flirting, even.

_No, no it's not a date. We're not flirting, we're teasing. Friends tease. Friends hang out places. I don't care what Aubrey said_ , he thought to himself as they continued walking. _It's not a date._

Flash liked the part of the Intrepid where you could see all the different instruments used in running the ship, where a recording of voices made it sound like the Intrepid was still receiving orders and messages. Peter liked it too, more because it was the driest and quietest place they'd been so far than because he was fascinated by how a naval ship worked. On the flight deck there were people chatting, wind, that constant drizzle that had started that morning, and the sound of traffic just across the visitors' entrance walkway. Inside the main hanger there was this humming noise, like an engine almost, and more of that chatter that never stopped. With his enhanced senses, all the noise could get overwhelming sometimes.

Though, he had to admit, it was interesting to learn how many boilers it took to power a ship like the Intrepid – eight, the worker said. Comparing that to modern ships, to Tony's flight suit and the S.H.I.E.L.D. air ships and arc reactor technology, made Peter's science brain salivate.

Then they went to the Space Shuttle Pavilion. It required going back outside to the flight deck, but they made a mad dash and got to the pavilion without getting too damp. Peter's first thought was that it was just very dark inside.

"I guess they want it to feel like we're in space or something," he mused aloud as they looked up at the massive vehicle of history that was the Enterprise space shuttle.

With a slight up quirk of his lips, Flash said, "Probably. Did you know they named this thing after the ship from Star Trek? And that a bunch of the cast of the show came out to see it lift off?"

Peter stared at Flash in open surprise. He'd known about the naming thing – it seemed obvious, to him at least, but not about the Star Trek cast. The longer Peter stared, the more uncomfortable Flash became.

"What? I read it somewhere. There was even a really old picture about it," he defended, hunching his shoulders.

Shaking his head, Peter rushed to assure him, "No no no. No, that's-I didn't know that."

"Yes you did," Flash accused with a frown.

"No. I really didn't. I mean, about the-the name, I did, but not about the lift off." He smiled. "That's really cool, Flash."

Flash still flushed, but this time from pride. A few minutes later, he looked straight-up like a preening peacock when they found an entire mural sized exhibit talking about the lift off and the cast. Peter let him have his moment. He actually let him have about five long moments before turning and walking away, which earned him a grunt of disapproval from Flash. It just made Peter grin.

_It's not a date. It's not a date,_ he repeated in his mind despite the way his chest argued. _It's not flirty, and this is not a date._

There were simulators at the museum too. Peter wanted to ride all three of them, but Flash wouldn't let him on the G-Force one.

"You're still healing," he said, and Peter couldn't help feeling like Aunt May was standing beside him. Nagging and yet caring a lot at the same time. But he couldn't exactly come out and tell Flash he was perfectly healed. He'd just have to do without the simulator.

Still, they both enjoyed the 4-D Theater and Peter got Flash into the Transporter FX before he could think too much on it and decide that that was too strenuous too. Ever the dutiful bodyguard, Flash did ask him multiple times afterward if he was okay, though.

The last thing they checked out was the British Airways plane. By that time it had stopped drizzling, but the sky was still very overcast, so they didn't get wet walking around outside again. They were both a little disappointed in the giant plane, since the rest of the museum complex was very military or very science and this was a passenger plane. Only two things really struck them about the plane.

"It's a lot….thinner than I expected," Peter said at one point. "They seem so…so big, when you fly in them."

"Wait, why's this say Rolls Royce? Was this plane made by Rolls Royce?" Flash asked a minute or so later. "Those are some expensive ass cars."

It wasn't until they were reentering Queens that Peter groaned. "We forgot to check out the submarine," he explained morosely. How had they missed it?!

Flash relaxed in his subway seat. "We'll just have to go back sometime, then."

The thought of going back to the Intrepid with Flash was a nice one. After they'd watched Star Wars, and maybe some Star Trek. After they'd attended an air show. Peter felt himself begin to blush and mentally shook himself. They weren't da-!

Flash grinned. "And next time, we'll ride the G-Force simulator too."

He held up his fist. Peter looked from it to Flash and back again. It was a rainy day in New York City. Peter had to pretend to still ache from wounds he'd healed from days ago. Still, he couldn't help but smile as he bumped his fist against Flash's. He was just really happy, and looking forward to more fun with Flash, no matter what nosy incorrect classmates said.

...

…

It was hard for Flash to imagine that Peter's chest had been black and blue just under two weeks ago. He kept trying to convince Peter to take it easy, but the photographer seemed determined to be active and reckless. For example, while he had been letting Flash keep him from extra activities like sports, Peter was still pretty rambunctious when it came to his photos. He ran into shoving crowds to get better views and, last week, twisted his torso almost backwards to get the best shot of some bikers moving through town with a police convoy. Flash was so focused on making sure Peter would "Stop. Just stop." that he didn't even remember what the convoy was for.

Still, for almost two weeks, Peter put up with Flash being more of a mother hen than he'd even known himself to be in the past. But one morning, Flash came to pick him up, and Peter had his skateboard.

"What is that?" Flash asked, motioning to the board. Peter opened his mouth, already starting to smirk, and Flash held his hand up to stop the comment. "I swear to God if you say 'a skateboard', I'm not speaking to you for the rest of the day."

"Party pooper," Peter complained and flipped the board in his hands. "I'm going to Flushing Meadows, to the skate park. I've done my healing, and I don't want to get rusty."

"Not a chance. Just because the most severe bruises have faded doesn't mean you should strain the muscles." Flash frowned when Peter rolled his eyes. "I'm serious, Peter. I don't want to see you turn yourself purple again."

With a groan of frustration, Peter dropped the board with one hand and grabbed the hem of his shirt. One quick yank later and he was showing off his full toned and firm torso. Over a foot of medium tan skin, bare of any mark or blemish, just perfect and smooth and inviting Flash to touch it. Wait. Back up.

"See?" Peter asked. "I'm fine. Not a mark on me. I'm healed. Now I'm going to the skate park. You can join or you can go home. Okay?"

Mind still trying to switch back from admiring the shade of Peter's skin and his impressive abs, Flash just frowned at first. Then Peter dropped his shirt and looked at him expectantly, and Flash was forced to get his shit together. "Yeah, alright. Fine. But don't do anything stupid."

Wow. If anyone was being stupid, it was him. What kind of comment was that? They were going to a skate park! Stupid tricks abounded and Peter was likely to fall off his board at least once or twice... statistically speaking. Nothing against Peter's skill. It was just expected.

They didn't call for a car, as they had for most of their other outings per Harry's request. Instead they just hopped the subway to Willets Point and walked the short ten minutes to the park. Peter was planning to skate every inch of the area, but Flash... not so much.

"Yeah, I don't skate," he said as they walked. "I'd faceplant as soon as I tried. But you can, what is it, grind? all the park benches you want."

Peter laughed. "The park is so much more than a couple of benches, Flash. Maloof is modeled after the five boroughs. Each section has rails and obstacles native to places skaters used to skate before the park was made... Or still skate, but you know... Anyway, it's like skating the whole of the city in an afternoon."

Well at least Peter was excited. The biggest draw for Flash was getting to see Peter skate. In all the time they'd hung out, Flash had never accompanied Peter to skate. He knew Peter still did it in his free time, and there had been at least one mention of Tony having installed a small indoor park at the tower for him, because why not, but Flash had never seen Peter skate firsthand.

So Peter went skating, and Flash, who had never been on a skateboard before in his life, stood quietly on the other side of the short wall and watched. He stayed out of the way of the other skaters but kept an eye on anyone rolling too close to Peter... or that Peter rolled too close to. Not that Flash could do anything about them if he wanted to. Not with a dozen skaters zipping around and with momentum on their side.

Mostly, though, his eyes were on Peter. The lithe skater's skin had been perfect, not the tiniest bruise left to show he'd been so injured. Sure, Flash had said to give the healing a week and it had been almost two, but to be that healed? It was a miracle.

After half an hour of Peter doing tricks with his board involving jumping and grinding and, in one case, just doing a handstand on the board, Peter skated close enough to Flash to give Flash a clear view of his grin and the sweat lightly beading on his face. And maybe it wasn't so bad that they came, because Peter looked exhilarated and free and more than a little beautiful, even if Flash tried not to think about it and failed.

In the JFK Banks, Peter did multiple tricks that included pausing his board on the ledge before dropping back in to do another trick, and on the last drop he used the momentum to ollie over the Amsterdam Ave ramps. Another skater zipped over the ramp like two seconds later and Flash wondered how the hell anyone managed to leave the park unscathed if they were that close to each other. Not that Peter seemed to mind. He even waved at the other skater and they gave each other a thumbs up.

Then Peter made his way back to the top of the park, did a kick-flip onto the Brooklyn Banks and stopped. In front of him was the longest rail in the park. It ran down nine stairs, but that didn't seem to faze Peter. He caught Flash's eye and made an excited hand motion at the rail. It was all Flash could do to wave him on encouragingly.

Peter, standing on his board, pushed off and gained speed, and then his board left the ground and he landed on the rail. His balance amazed Flash as he slid down the full rail, the rail perfectly center on the board the whole time, and landed without issue! Then he slid down a short ledge, balancing on the nose of his board, until he was at the bottom of the park. Show-off trick done, he calmly skated his way over to where Flash was watching.

"How's it over here?" he asked, a grin breaking his face. He didn't seem very out of breath at all, although sweat was building around his hairline and his face was turning pink in the sun.

"Cold," Flash answered honestly, shrugging his jacket on further. The lowering autumn temperatures didn't seem to bother any of the skaters. Probably because of all their exertion. Flash motioned to the Brooklyn rail. "That was pretty sweet what you did on the rail there."

"Thanks." Peter's grin couldn't get wider. "Wanna see some more?"

"Sure," Flash said, when what he really meant was 'Absolutely.'

He'd had reservations about Peter's physical wellness, and he still worried a bit about the other skaters, but Peter was amazing at skating. Every time he did a grind or a jump, Flash felt his heart race with secondhand adrenaline. And he was a bit envious too, if he was honest. But watching Peter have fun and trick out? Flash hadn't expected it to be so entertaining.

Now that he was specifically showing off to Flash, Peter didn't leave the bottom of the park. He skated the flat area to get a bit of momentum, and then he was doing kickflips and high ollies where Flash had a close, unobstructed view.

On one pass, Peter glanced up to make sure he had Flash's full attention, as if Flash would ever look away, and then he seemed smug in preparation for the trick he was about to do. He shifted his feet farther back on the board, popped the tail, and then Flash wasn't sure what happened because it was just amazing. The board had spun in a full circle horizontally AND done a full roll!

"The hell was that?" he exclaimed as Peter turned to come back to him.

Definitely looking smug now, Peter said, "A 360 Flip. Pretty awesome, right?"

"I don't know how you're not on your ass," Flash said, which pretty much amounted to the same sentiment. "Man, I could never-"

"You should try," Peter interrupted. At Flash's stunned expression, he elaborated in a surprisingly calm tone. There was none of the usual flustered stuttering Flash was used to. "Not the 360, obviously. But come on. I'll teach you the basics."

Although he had beckoned for Flash to join him in the pit, it was actually Peter who relocated. He hopped the guard wall and set his board on the ground in front of Flash. This was ludicrous, of course, because Flash couldn't even stand on a board, much less ride one, but Peter looked determined.

"I'm gonna look like an idiot," Flash complained and glanced over at the advanced skaters and the group of spectators watching them. Friends or family or whoever. They'd all see Flash fail.

A hand gently bat Flash on the cheek to regain his attention and he found Peter's eyes on him, intense in their stare but set above a soft smile. "Forget about those people. No one gets good by imagining all the people laughing at them. Just think. It's you and me. Nobody else. Okay? Now give me your hand and step onto the board."

Maybe it was stupid, but Peter's confidence infected Flash just a bit, and he did his best to turn the sounds of the skate park and its spectators into background noise. This was a sport, just like basketball, and just like in basketball, paying attention to the crowd instead of the game meant distraction and losing. He slid his rough hand into Peter's outstretched one and let himself be coached on the proper way to step on so as not to lose the board from under him.

Getting on was step one. Then it was balancing. Flash's right hand was still in Peter's, but when he wobbled on the board, he snapped his left hand down on Peter's shoulder and held on tight. The strength Peter always belied was evident as he provided support, and Flash might have held on a bit more than needed just to feel how solid a frame Peter truly had.

Peter laughed slightly through his teaching, but it wasn't a jeering, taunting sound. Instead, Flash found himself smiling in response to it. Peter's free hand pressed against Flash's stomach as he said, "Bend your knees slightly – no, too much, too much. Good. Like that. - And find your balance from here."

"Are you teaching me to skateboard or to fight?" Flash asked, remembering his training at OsCorp.

"Well the balancing principle is pretty much the same so... Yeah. I'm teaching you to fight." Peter chuckled, and Flash felt it under his hands. It made his stomach clench pleasantly, and he hoped Peter didn't notice.

Then Peter's hand moved to Flash's shoulders and fixed his stance, and soon Flash was able to move the board back and forth without totally shoving it out from under his feet. Peter was ecstatic, as though Flash had learned to ollie in one day. While Peter's eyes were down on the board, Flash stared at the other's face. Peter was some kind of abnormality – a mix of brilliant science and adept physical skill. He maintained the innocent excitement of an amateur while possessing the abilities of a professional. He was inspirational in a way Flash never could have understood back in high school, when he'd been too focused on himself and his small portion of the world.

Peter had never seen his world as small. That's what made him different. He was always seeing the world around him and marveling in it, caring about it, bringing everything into focus. And right now, all of that focus was on Flash. It was a pretty nice place to be, if Flash was honest.

Part of Flash wanted to caress the side of Peter's face, right over his cheekbone and down past his ear, right through the sweat gathered there. Part of him knew that was a terrible idea that he should never act on ever. For one, he was technically working and that wasn't professional. But more importantly, Peter had only just broken up with Gwen. It had been a month and a half, roughly, and people like Peter didn't date for the drama. They dated with all their heart. So there was no way Peter was over Gwen, no matter how happy he seemed to be on a daily basis. Touching Peter so fondly, so intimately, would be a breach of trust. It would cross a line in their relationship that was probably never even meant to be acknowledged.

And yet Flash found his hand releasing Peter's shoulder and moving toward his face anyway.

Without the extra hand supporting him, Flash's balance tipped and his left foot accidentally shoved the board out from under his feet with enough force to shoot it off into the grass some fifteen feet away. He fell, his weight dragging Peter down with him, and he expected to hit the concrete hard. But he didn't. Peter tried to right him at the same time he fell, and it ended up with Peter on his back on the ground and Flash hovering above him... almost literally.

Peter's arms were out, hands on Flash's biceps, and he was holding Flash off the ground in a position reminiscent of a parent holding their kid up above them so they could 'fly'. The only parts of Flash on the ground were his toes, but after the shock wore off, he dropped to his knees. Peter dropped him low enough that he could put his hands on the ground, and then he was really and truly covering Peter on the cement. They were close enough to feel each other breathing, the air rushing over each other's faces. They were close enough that, if Flash wanted to, he could easily kiss Peter. Not that he didn't want to, but he'd already learned his lesson for the day. If he tried to kiss Peter now, the universe would probably toss a skateboard into his head. But he still wanted to.

"Holy crap," Flash said with a startled breath. He quickly scrambled off Peter, embarrassment flooding him. His mind wasn't on everyone seeing him fail so epically. No, he was thinking about how close their bodies had been, how strong Peter was, and how it must have looked to others when Flash was covering Peter.

Damn his stupid brain. If he had just listened to his own logic and not tried to caress Peter's stupid, sweaty face, then none of that would have happened. For his part, Peter also seemed flustered, and Flash thought he saw a blush dusting the other's cheekbones... although that could have been the exertion from skating for an hour.

Peter rubbed his hands together and cleared his throat. "So- So not perfect yet. Guess we'll just have to- and- well no kickflips in your foreseeable future, huh?" He pushed himself up then and scrambled off to go find his skateboard while muttering, "Aw crap. Where's my board?"

A deep frown settled on Flash's face and he didn't bother trying to remove it or even trying to get up. If he'd broken Peter's board, it would be the perfect ending to the worst decision Flash had made in the past six months, at least. But when Peter returned, his board was in one piece and he was relaxed.

He offered Flash a hand up. "You alright, Flash?" he asked.

Shaking his head, Flash took the hand. "Yeah. Guess I'm just a bit disappointed in myself, that's all."

"Hey, no worries, man." Peter bumped shoulders with him and motioned toward the street. "If you keep practicing you'll get it. Then maybe we can skate together someday. But hey, how about we go find some lunch first?"

All of the flustered tension had left Peter, and he was back to his relaxed and elated mood from before Flash had tried to broach his trust. Good. Flash hadn't broken it. Not yet.

"Yeah, sure. I could go for a good corned beef sandwich right about now," Flash admitted, and his craving for the food only increased after he said it out loud.

That got a little laugh out of Peter, and the sound relaxed some of Flash's nerves. "Careful now, Flash. I think your tastes have gotten a bit high class since you got access to that OsCorp money," the photographer teased. "A corned beef sandwich?"

"Oh yeah," Flash agreed with a studious nod. "We'll settle for nothing less than the best sandwiches in the city."

"Oh no," Peter groaned, playing along.

"Oh yeah," Flash said with the finality of victory. "We're going back to the Lower East Side. We're going to Katz's."

…

...

The line was out the door. Getting to the counter to order was an exercise in patience. Not losing their ticket was handled like an Avengers mission. But, when they were finally seated against a wall practically dripping in photographs and had their food beautifully plated in front of them, the noise and the hassle was all completely worth it.

This was Katz's Delicatessen. The wall behind the counter was hung with layers of meat, the walls in the dining area were covered in photographs and neon signs, every table was full of chattering and smiling people, and a sign hung from the roof proclaiming "Where Harry met Sally...hope you have what she had! Enjoy!" It was loud, it was crowded, it was expensive, but it smelled like heaven and tasted even better.

Peter had already torn through half of his pastrami sandwich and his pickles, making quite frankly obscene noises the entire time. Flash wasn't sure how to handle it, and his corned beef had been partially ignored in response.

"So," Peter said after wiping his mouth off. "I really appreciate what you've done for me."

Frowning, Flash asked, "What do you mean?" and took the opportunity to take a big bite of his sandwich.

Peter motioned around them, at the restaurant and the people, but also as if to places outside of Katz's. "Taking me to the Intrepid, that movie theater with the superhero movies, the Statue of Liberty, the _zoo_. I mean, at the Hall of Science you even paid extra for the science playground even though we're kind of too old for it."

That might be true, but it was totally worth the extra money to get them to let Peter play with that giant water screw thing – Archimedes screw, he remembered. Not to mention the spider web. Even though Peter had gone slow and almost seemed determined to get tangled or slip from time to time, he'd been too sure footed and precise to really pull it off. And why Peter would want to seem clumsier than he really was baffled Flash.

"You say all that like you didn't have fun," Flash said once he'd swallowed, before taking another bite.

Peter had started the conversation by thanking him, but the way he listed off the places they'd gone since his break up sounded like he was upset. Given that each and every one of those trips was meant to lift Peter's spirits, he had Flash worried. Had Flash miscalculated? Math had never been his strong suit, but he'd thought he was better at reading people than he'd been in high school.

Running his hands through his hair, Peter said, "No, I did. I really did. It's just-Flash, you've done a lot for me. And I know that you're-that we're not-I know you're getting paid to hang out with me, okay? I get that. But we haven't had a you day in a long time, and-and I think we should change that."

Flash handed him some napkins, earning him a confused eyebrow raise. "You got mustard in your hair."

There was a delightful flush across Peter's cheeks as he worked to get the yellow condiment out of his brown hair. Again, Flash was caught wanting to reach out to him. How warm was Peter's skin over that pink blush? And despite how often Peter ran the napkins over and through his hair, he kept missing one little spot of mustard. Flash could get it. He could run his fingers over Peter's head, through each strand.

Peter's voice knocked him back from those thoughts. "I wanna do something you wanna do," he said. Flash's pulse jumped. "So the next time we go somewhere, I want it to be something you want to do. Not me."

"You trying to say I didn't have fun at all those places we've gone?" Flash asked, trying to sound offended. By Peter's reaction, he succeeded more than he thought he had.

"I'm not saying that," Peter backtracked, holding his hands up. "But come on, Flash. We both know science isn't your thing. And the zoo? You've never struck me as a cuddly animals kind of guy." A little grin. "I mean, until the petting zoo."

Flash narrowed his eyes across the table. "You swore you wouldn't mention it again."

So Flash had a soft spot for baby animals. It wasn't that big of a deal. That didn't mean he wanted it spread like gossip in the lunch room. He was still a little sore that Peter had laughed at him. He'd apologized, but still.

Still grinning, Peter said. "So? Pick what we do for fun next."

They met eyes across the table. He wanted Flash to pick their next outing based not on what he thought Peter would like, but on what Flash would like. It felt…nice. Peter caring about Flash enjoying himself felt really really nice.

He took another bite of his sandwich, nearly all of it gone now, to stop himself from smiling. Peter didn't move a muscle, just staring at Flash like his gaze alone could make Flash give in. It might, if Flash had been putting up a resistance in the first place.

"Barclays," Flash said. Peter gave him a confused look. "They're having a game there soon. A series of them, actually. We can go to that."

Peter lifted an eyebrow. "Basketball games?"

"Yeah." Peter let out a soft chuckle, as if to say 'why am I not surprised?' and then continued eating his own sandwich. Flash frowned. "If you're not interested, just say so."

Shaking his head, Peter said, around his food, "It's fine. I'm interested." Flash opened his mouth to protest but Peter stopped him with a determined look. "We're going to Barclays, Flash."

Flash frowned. He knew sports weren't Peter's thing. Sure, science wasn't _his_ thing and he still went to all those science-y places to make Peter happy, but Peter didn't need to do the same for him. "Peter-"

"Or, I'm going to Barclays," Peter amended. "And, since it's your job to keep me safe and follow me everywhere I go, I guess you have to go too or else I'll be all alone. Who knows what dangers lie waiting in that arena? I could die."

That forced a laugh from Flash. "Tripping down the stairs?"

A shrug. "You never know. I could be mugged. One of Spider-man's nemeses might show up. There could be some freak incident and I get beat up by a basketball flying into the stands." He smirked. "You'll just have to go with me to make sure I don't get hurt, won't you, Thompson?"

Now Flash was smiling. Peter had a knack for getting Flash to smile lately. He'd had a knack for ticking Flash off in school. He'd liked Peter even then, he could admit that now. At the time it had made Flash scared and angry, and he'd become an even worse bully. He still liked Peter now. Older, more mature, more sure of himself, this time the feeling made Flash content, maybe even happy. Whenever he forgot that Peter wasn't interested, at least.

"I guess I will, Parker."


	12. Chapter 12

Flash was not surprised when he was called in to see Harry Osborne. Harry called him for update meetings once a week, on Tuesday because Peter was at Avengers Tower in the afternoons. He was a little surprised to see Harry sitting at the table in the meeting room, staring intently at something on the computerized screen contained in said table, instead of standing to greet him with a smile like he usually did.

Flash stood silently once the door was shut behind him. He didn't speak or move, waiting. Harry flicked his finger and whatever he was looking at changed to a different image. From where he was standing, Flash thought it was a billing statement.

"Intriguing," Harry said at length, not lifting his head. "Mr. Thompson, how long have you been working as Peter's bodyguard?"

With a confused furrow of his eyebrows, Flash responded, "Four months, Mr. Osborne."

"Four months and six days," Harry corrected. He lifted his eyes now, fixing them on Flash.

Harry Osborne was not a physically imposing man. He was thin and gangly, more so than Peter had ever been. While Flash knew Harry had some martial arts skill, he was still not afraid of the smaller male. After all, Flash had some training as well. But Harry had presence. He could take up the whole room without saying a word. If he was happy with you then the room seemed larger, brighter. If he was upset with you then the very air around you felt oppressive.

Flash felt the world shrinking more with every second Harry's gaze lingered on him, his eyes dark and a definite frown on his lips. "That sounds about right."

"And how long were you expecting to use company profits to date Peter?"

"What?" Flash gasped, feeling off center. Dates? He wasn't dating Peter. He wanted to, but he wasn't, because Peter didn't...He didn't...Right?

Harry flicked his wrist and the documents he was looking at were displayed in the air between himself and Flash. It was a billing statement, like Flash had thought, for a credit card. Glancing at the account number at the top, Flash realized it was for the credit card Harry had issued for him upon employment.

The whole screen was taken up with purchases Flash had made in the past few weeks. Pizza at that place Peter really liked. Two tickets to the New York Hall of Science, including mini golf and the science playground. Several trips to the American Museum of Natural History for different exhibits. The Intrepid Sea, Air, and Space Museum Complex tickets. That dollar theater Flash had found showing old superhero movies on Mondays showed up a few times. The Statue of Liberty ferry tickets, with crown access. The tickets for seats at Barclays Center. To the Central Park Zoo. Food at Calexico, Souvlaki GR from that day he and Peter just happened to pass it, The Cinnamon Snail, Van Leeuwen Artisan Ice Cream from right after the break up, and about a half dozen other food trucks where Flash remembered nearly bullying Peter into letting Flash buy him something to eat. Katz's Delicatessen a few times.

At least Flash had paid transportation costs with his own money.

"I see you're having some issues finding a good excuse," Harry noted, standing from his seat slowly. "Don't bother coming up with one, because there isn't one good enough. You are meant to be his _bodyguard_. That means guarding him from anything you decide is dangerous for him. That does not mean using your company business card to ferry _my_ friend around all of New York City on dates."

It took a good shake of his head for Flash to manage speech. "I assure you, sir, I did _not_ mean them to be dates."

He would have liked them to be dates, but that was not his intention when taking Peter to those places and paying for all that stuff.

"Then what did you mean by all this spending?" Harry asked. It sounded like a loaded question but Flash did his best to answer truthfully while also in a way that a paranoid rich friend might sympathize with.

"I'm sure you know that Peter's girlfriend broke up with him," Flash began. A dark look passed over Harry's face as he nodded. "He was hurt by the break up. You could even say he was verging on depressed. Now, Mr. Osborne, you may be Peter's friend, but so am I. I don't really understand all the science stuff that you and Peter do, but I know he likes that sort of thing, so I tried taking him around to places to get his mind off of Gwen and back on to the other things he cares about. Science. Learning. This city. I was only trying to help out a friend, like you would."

Harry lifted the eyebrow not hidden behind his bangs and gave Flash a considering look. His eyes wandered from the top of Flash's head to the bottoms of his feet, then back up to stop on his face. After what felt like a lifetime, Harry reached over and swiped a hand over the tabletop, making the floating images vanish, all without looking away from Flash.

He nodded and seemed to relax, though Flash did not. "Eugene _'Flash'_ Thompson," Harry said in a sing-song voice. His lips quirked up on one side and he slid his hands in his pockets. "I hired you as a bodyguard because you and Peter were acquaintances in high school and because you fit the profile I was looking for. You still do. And honestly, I don't care if you want to be Peter's rebound."

"I-" Flash tried to say but Harry cut off his words with a hard look and kept talking, voice measured and speech slow.

"If it helps you spend more time with him; if it makes you more prone to protect him; if he is the first and last thing you consider in every situation, then I don't care if you want to write sonnets about Peter's eyelashes or have his name carved into the surface of the moon. However, whatever you do while trying to _woo_ Peter..." Harry started walking closer to Flash, who kept absolutely still and wary. Harry was shorter than Flash, shorter than Peter, but not by much. He stopped just before his right shoulder met Flash's and tilted his chin up so his mouth was near Flash's ear. "Do it with your own money, not mine."

There was a warning and a threat in the statement that Flash understood. He worked for the Osborns protecting Peter Parker, but the Osborns had the power to make his life hell if he ticked them off enough. Then Harry fluidly spun around Flash and headed for the door, which opened when he reached it without him having to lift a finger.

"Have a great week, Mr. Thompson," he said casually before one of his bodyguards shut the door and Flash was alone in the room.

...

...

It was a really dumb idea. Like, a super bad idea. Still, no one could say Flash was rational when he was upset. So it really was no surprise when he left OsCorp and went looking for a fight.

He was angry at Harry for threatening him, for not listening to him, for throwing Flash's feelings for Peter in his face. He was also frustrated. Was he that obvious? Did Peter know? Was he just humoring Flash? The thought made Flash antsy which made him want to punch something. No, it's wasn't smart. No, it wasn't right. But that was how it was.

Luckily he found a group of four guys hanging out in an ally and looking suspiciously at a nearby store. They had patches on their jackets that matched one of the gangs in the neighborhood, and that ended up being enough for Flash.

It took a tap to one's shoulder and a punch to the guy's face when he turned around, then Flash was involved in a full on brawl. His training at OsCorp, and before that, were on his side. Flash could easily take all four of them out with only minor injuries to himself.

Except he quickly realized he wasn't fighting four guys. Five other guys had come from somewhere while Flash was busy dodging attacks. One against nine. He didn't like those odds. Still, he'd asked for this fight so he was going to fight to win.

He dodged a punch from the guy he originally hit and then felt arms grab him from behind. Dropping his body a little by bending his knees, Flash grabbed hold of his attacker and flipped the guy up over his shoulder. The guy landed hard on his back and didn't get up, instead just lying there and groaning. One of the other guys, one with a long ponytail, landed a punch to Flash's face but he rolled with it so the fist just skimmed him. Flash took ponytail guy out with a punch to his gut that had him on his knees.

Flash's luck seemed to run out then. A guy with a buzz cut shorter than Flash's kicked Flash in the back of the knees, making him fall, and it was all downhill from there. He caught the next fist that aimed at his head but missed the kick to his stomach from the other side. Still reeling from that hit, he wasn't able to stop the blow to the head that knocked him to the pavement.

The guys were saying something but Flash was too busy trying to think of how to beat them, and blinking away the spots in his vision, to pay attention. He hated getting hit in the head. It made thinking difficult and brought up bad memories.

Flash pushed himself up and, when no one stopped him, jumped up. He was instantly in a fighting pose, fists raised to protect his head from further attack. Except that there was no further attack. Two guys were backing toward the exit of the ally, three were lying on the ground in pain, and the other four were pinned by webbing to the wall.

"Now now, boys," a teasing and familiar voice said behind him. "You were talking so big just a second ago."

Flipping around, Flash came face to face with Spider-Man. Well, face to mask. Spider-Man had a knife in his hand, which he crushed in that one hand and then threw toward a dumpster behind him. Amazingly, without him even looking, it went in.

"He started it!" One of the two remaining fighters shouted, pointing at Flash.

Spider-Man looked at Flash then, head tilted curiously. A rush of shame welled up in Flash. He'd talked a big game to Captain America, been real good about only doing minimal fighting while protecting Peter, but he was still so far from being as good as Spider-Man. And Flash wasn't just some guy. Spider-Man knew who he was, knew that Flash admired him _so much_. Now he'd let his hero down. The pain in his chest hurt more than the pain in his head.

Spider-Man shot out two strands of webbing, catching both slowly fleeing men before they could take another step. In less than five seconds they were pinned next to their friends. "Well then, you all can stay here and take the time until the webbing dissolves to really think about your life choices. After all, nine against one? Those odds just aren't fair. And as for you," he said as he turned on Flash.

Flash didn't try to run, ready to accept Spider-Man's punishment with whatever remaining pride he had. Spider-Man shrugged and then shot webbing at Flash. It covered his mouth. Then stuck his wrists together. Flash let out a rush of noise through his nose and in his throat, shocked. Spider-Man walked until there was almost no space between himself and Flash.

"I guess you're coming with me, tough guy." Without any more warning, Flash was whisked away into the air.

Flying through the air with Spider-Man was awesome. Even with webbing holding him captive and preventing him from talking, the rush of the air against his face and the way his stomach dropped whenever they started to fall again was exhilarating. And the whole time, Spider-Man had a hand wrapped around him while in return his arms were locked around Spider-Man's neck. Flash just wished he knew where Spider-Man was taking him. The police? For one street fight?

Finding himself at his own apartment was not what he expected.

Spider-Man quickly slid them both in through a window - not the same one he'd given Flash cake through, thankfully, since Flash wouldn't have fit - and then shut it behind them. Flash took a moment to take in the fact that _Spider-Man_ was in his _bedroom_. His idol was in his apartment.

Yeah this was happening.

Then the masked vigilante cut the webbing away from Flash's mouth and the bindings holding Flash's hands together. Of course the first thing out of Flash's mouth was, "So I'm not in trouble?"

Spider-Man placed his hands on his hips. "No, not really." Then he crossed his arms. "I would like an explanation for why you thought fighting against _nine thugs_ was a good idea though."

Flash almost flinched but managed to hold it back. "It wasn't nine thugs. It was four. The other five showed up after the fight started."

Now the superhero rolled his head and shoulders, like Flash imagined he was also rolling his eyes. "Right, cause that's _so_ much better. Still not an explanation, Eugene." He waved a hand at Flash in a 'come on, tell me' motion before re-crossing his arms.

Flash _hated_ his first name. He hated remembering it yelled in unlit hallways in slurred tones at all hours of the day and night. He hated reading it on letters sent home or left on his desk in regret. Nothing got him riled faster than someone using his first name.

Peter used his first name.

Thinking back on it, Peter probably used "Eugene" to get Flash riled up on purpose. He would always leave whomever he'd been bullying alone and turn on Peter the instant his first name was used. Crap. Peter had won every fight they'd been a part of without ever throwing a punch. And all this time Flash had thought _he_ was the tough one.

With an outward groan, Flash felt his anger slip away. He ran his hands over his face. "Bad day at work," he explained vaguely.

"Oh, did you get thrown through a brick wall and land on a rotary phone too?" Spider-Man asked, sounding genuinely interested.

Flash lifted an eyebrow at him. "Uh, no. I got chewed out by my boss."

"But did you land on a rotary phone?" Spider-Man repeated, his tone mocking and unlike anything Flash had ever heard from a superhero before. Except maybe Iron Man.

It took Flash a moment or two before he realized what the superhero was doing. "Dude. You've seen The Hangover?"

The spandex clad hero shrugged and scoffed. "Duh."

Flash let out a single laugh. Spider-Man watched dumb comedies just like anyone else. Somehow that made him feel better.

He let out a long sigh and rolled an aching shoulder. "You ever like anyone? And I mean like, 'dating'-like. Actually maybe 'spending the rest of your life with them'-like. Verging on 'what's wrong with morning breath'-like."

"Uh."

Flash pushed forward before he could get an answer. "Which is stupid, right? No one likes morning breath. And I'm hardly marriage material." He used his right hand to gesture to all of himself. Spider-Man tilted his head to the side like he was considering Flash's marriage qualification too. "And man, I was a prick in high school. Grade A douche. Meanwhile you're...you. Obviously if you ever liked someone you're perfect for them."

"Hardly," Spider-Man scoffed. "Lots of missed dates, having to leave in the middle of a conversation, not to mention the lying? I doubt you're much worse than me." He held his hands out to the sides as if presenting himself. "I wouldn't put much faith in any advice I could give, but if you want to ask me something, shoot. I'm durable, I can take it."

That got another single laugh out of Flash. "Alright."

He sat on the edge of his bed and looked at his hands while he spoke, so only Spider-Man's feet were in view.

"I got chewed out today by my boss because he thought I was using company money to date-" Flash paused. Peter was practically Spider-Man's official photographer. That meant Spider-Man probably knew who Peter was. If Flash wanted an unbiased opinion, he'd probably best not mention Peter by name. "-this guy," he finished lamely.

For a moment the room was quiet. Red and blue feet shuffled around within Flash's vision. Then, "Well were you?"

"Hm?"

"Using company money to your own advantage?" Spider-Man clarified. "Cause, sorry, that's actually an offen-"

"No," Flash interrupted, looking up. He could felt his cheek throb with the movement and knew he'd have a nice bruise in the morning. "I wasn't. It apparently looked that way, but it wasn't what I meant to do."

Spider-Man let out a short breath, then a tiny groan. Reaching up, he gripped the bottom of his mask around his neck. As he began to pull it up, Flash's heart sped up. Was he taking off his mask? Why? Was Flash supposed to look away or something?

The mask stopped when it could be propped just over Spider-Man's nose, still hiding most of his head and face. Flash wasn't sure if he should be happy or disappointed.

"Whoo, it gets hot under there," the super man let out. "You ever wear one of those face masks people put on so they don't cough on others when they're sick, or what doctors wear when doing surgeries and stuff?" A nod. "I always hated that feeling of your own hot air blowing back on your face. Ick."

The skin Flash could now see was lighter toned than he'd been expecting, but not pale. There were no scars or blemishes visible, only clean and smooth skin along a soft but authoritative jaw and down the long neck. His mouth was ever so slightly crooked, reminding Flash of Peter's mouth. Which just brought him out of admiring his hero and back to the current problem at hand.

"Anyway," Spider-Man said, "do you even like the guy they thought you were dating? I mean, would you like to date him? Or, not worry about morning breath with him?"

Flash nodded. "Yeah." Spider-Man's mouth curved down a little and Flash felt a shot of annoyance. "What? I never thought you of all people would have an issue with two dudes dating." Now Spider-man had his head tilted and a lopsided frown on his lips. "You're a superhero. You help everyone. I've never heard of you discriminating."

Spider-man shook his head. When he spoke, he sounded a bit lost. "No...No, that's not...I was just thinking about...I didn't know that you- That is, do you...Can I-"

It didn't sound like Flash was talking to a superhero. Instead, Flash would say this must be what talking to Spider-Man out of costume was like. He sounded much less confident, more like just another young guy like Flash. The back of Flash's brain picked up, telling him he recognized something in the way Spider-man was talking, in this nervous, thoughtful tone.

Seeming to come to some decision, Spider-Man frowned again and nodded. Then, before Flash could move, Spider-Man took the two steps to stand between Flash's legs. His gloved hands cupped Flash's face gently, and then Spider-Man leaned down. Flash had enough time to realize what was about to happen, for his eyes to widen, and then Spider-Man's lips covered his own and he was being kissed by New York's Friendly Neighborhood Wall Crawler.

He was being kissed by New York's Friendly Neighborhood _Spider-Man_.

He was being kissed by Spider-Man.

He was being kissed by-!

Spider-Man pulled back, hesitated, then seemed to fold in on himself. He pulled his hands away from Flash's face and held them close to his chest, a guilty frown pulling down his visible features. "I-I...I'm sorry. I shouldn't have-I gotta go." He pulled his mask fully on and turned away.

Flash regained control of his mental faculties soon enough to dart after the fleeing hero as he slipped out through the window again, but he wasn't quick enough to stop him. He watched Spider-Man swing around the edge of the apartment building next to his and then the red and blue hero was gone.

Leaning out his apartment bedroom window, Flash's brain whirred.

He liked Peter Parker. He wanted to kiss and date Peter Parker. But Spider-Man had just kissed him. Did that mean that Spider-Man liked him? Like, that Spider-Man wanted to date him? If he did, what was Flash supposed to do? Say 'No, sorry, I'm interested in a dorky photographer who studies biology and physics'? This was _Spider-Man_! It was like saying 'No' to the President of the United States!

"Shit," Flash let out, his head dropping forward to lean on the edge of the window. "How did this even happen?"

…

…

The door clicked shut with what sounded like abnormal loudness in the quiet house. Aunt May looked up from her reading, looked Peter over once, and frowned.

"Honey, what's wrong?" she asked, shutting her book.

Peter dragged his feet over to the couch and dropped into the cushions like he had no bones in his body. Leaning his head back to look at the ceiling, he asked, "How long is okay before liking someone new?"

Aunt May turned a bit to face him better. "What do you mean?"

"I mean…Back in high school people broke up all the time, and then like two weeks later they're with someone else. I always thought that was wrong. I mean, you were supposedly in love with whoever and then only two weeks later you're totally over it and you've moved on? That doesn't seem possible," he groused, waving his hand idly in the air like that would make his point for him.

There was quiet for a moment and then Aunt May placed a hand on his knee. "It's okay to start to move on from Gwen," she said quietly.

Peter sat up straight so he could look at her but didn't move enough to dislodge her hand. "We broke up just over a month ago. And she broke up with me. I shouldn't like anyone new this fast," he berated himself.

"You can't help who you like, Peter," Aunt May responded firmly. "And I doubt it's anyone new. You're so busy all the time, I have to think it's someone you already knew. That means there's history there. That means you know them."

Did she know he meant Flash? Flash was the one he spent most of his time with now, but he could mean someone at the Bugle or college or that he'd run into someone from high school again. She didn't know that. She couldn't know.

"It's unfair."

"To whom?" Aunt May asked as if he'd offended her. "To Gwen? Sweetie, she's a nice girl. I really liked her, but that doesn't mean you have to punish yourself because it didn't work out. And just because you like someone else doesn't mean that Gwen wasn't important, or that your relationship with her wasn't important. It just means that you're ready to heal. It means that there is someone else out there who can be just as important to you, make you just as happy."

Peter tried to look away and suddenly his aunt's hands were holding his face in place, her fierce eyes staring directly into his.

"There is nothing wrong with moving on, Peter."

The conviction was so strong in his aunt that there was nothing Peter could do but believe her. How many times had she chased away his doubts with pure will power? He wouldn't have been the school photographer without her. He wouldn't have pursued Gwen without her. Heck, he probably wouldn't still be Spider-Man without her. Aunt May was his solace and his guide.

Wrapping Aunt May up in his arms in as tight a hug as he would dare give her, Peter whispered, "I love you, Aunt May," into her hair.

She gently rubbed up and down his back. "I love you too, Peter. I always will."

…

…

_tbc_


	13. Chapter 13

Peter was, as usual every other Wednesday, escorted to the Osborn building by Flash. There, Flash would go to his physical training while Peter went to hang out with Harry for two hours. Unlike usual, the trip to get to Harry's place was uncomfortable and awkward.

The town car Harry always sent pulled up outside of Peter's house and he hurried downstairs. He was running late, too busy thinking about what happened last night to pay attention to the clock. Just as he shoved the door open, Flash pulled it open, resulting in them bumping chests and foreheads before they both jumped back.

"Flash!" Peter let out in shock at the same time Flash said, "Whoa!"

"Sorry," Peter rushed out, snapping his hand back from where it still rested on the screen door. Flash was rubbing his head. "You were-and I just-"

"Here, I'll-"

Peter went to step around Flash, but Flash moved to get out of Peter's way at the same time, which meant they nearly bumped into each other again. This time, both of them saw the moment happening and didn't actually collide, just took half steps back.

"Oh, you were-"

"I was just-"

They both stopped to let the other finish. Silence stretched between them. Peter began to fidget, his palms feeling sweaty. It was like a horrible 'morning after' scene from some movie. Peter couldn't help but feel like Flash knew it was him, that Peter had been the man in the suit last night, that Peter had deceived him, that he'd stolen a kiss and then ran away.

Somehow, the same feelings seemed mirrored on Flash's face too. But that didn't make sense. Flash wasn't a costumed hero who'd gone into someone's bedroom and kissed them last night and then had to face that person in the morning.

After several creeping seconds, Flash jerked back into motion and, faint pink on his cheeks, stepped to the side to let Peter walk down the steps and to the car first. Peter shuffled by him as quick as he could, head down so he wouldn't have to look Flash in the eyes. The bruising on Flash's face only reminded Peter more of the night before.

Normally, they'd chit chat about nothing in particular, but that morning Flash was distracted. He spent the majority of the ride with his eyes out the window, looking up at the buildings. That was okay, though, because Peter felt guilty about making any serious attempt at small talk after his actions the previous night.

At the Oscorp building, Flash got out first and opened Peter's door, all very normal, but once Peter was standing beside him, the bodyguard seemed...nervous? He shut the door quickly and cleared his throat. They met gazes for about a second before both of them quickly looked elsewhere.

"Sorry," Flash murmured. "I mean for not talking. I was..."

"Distracted," Peter offered, shifting his bag on his shoulder and lowering his eyes to the ground. He cleared his throat too. All he could think about when he looked at Flash was the sullen way the blonde had sat on his bed last night, the way he'd asked so openly for advice he didn't sound like he wanted to hear. All Peter could think about was how strongly he had felt, how much he wanted to be the guy Flash was trying to date. How his stomach rolled and his chest hurt because he wasn't.

And how sad was that? Only a few weeks prior, Peter had denied any idea of he and Flash dating, and yet here he was, hoping despite his better judgment that Flash wasn't dating someone else whenever he wasn't with Peter. And he'd crossed the line last night and stolen a kiss. Flash had looked to him for wisdom and example, and Peter had been so selfish. What kind of hero did that?

"I get it," Peter continued, still looking anywhere but directly at Flash. Still, he couldn't stop worrying about any other bruises Flash might have from the fight last night. Were they bothering him? He didn't heal like Peter. But he couldn't even ask about them. "I've got, uh, a lot on my mind too."

"Yeah." Flash rubbed the back of his neck and then motioned toward the front doors. "We should-"

"Yeah. Right." Peter nodded quickly and hurried toward the doors, ready to leave this disaster of a conversation.

Except he didn't actually get to leave it. Flash followed behind him, through the lobby, into the elevator. It was so quiet on the ride up to Harry's penthouse that Peter actually wished for brain meltingly boring elevator music. Anything was better than feeling like he was standing on hot coals and just waiting for them to eat through his shoes and burn his feet, and body, with unbearable heat.

The elevator dinged open, revealing Harry standing across the hall from where the elevator doors stood. Peter stepped out onto the glazed wood flooring, and gave Harry a wave, which the billionaire returned with a benevolent smile.

Hearing the elevator doors begin to close made a sudden panic rise in Peter. In a second, he'd flipped around and snapped his hands against the sides of the doors, causing them to slide back open and hold there until he moved. Flash's eyes were wide in surprise and confusion, but Peter couldn't help it. It suddenly felt like Peter wouldn't see Flash for a long time, maybe ever, that their relationship would fall apart if he let the doors close. But as soon as he was facing Flash, saw his short blonde hair - still growing out, his smoky green eyes, the panic left and Peter instead felt foolish.

"Um," he stuttered out. "So I'll-I mean..." He lowered his eyes to the space between the elevator car and the floor he stood on. What was he doing?

"Peter?" Flash reached out to him, but paused just before touching his shoulder and pulled back.

Snapping his head up again, Peter said, "Two hours! Uh, that is...I'll...I'll see you in two hours, right?"

Flash nodded, looking perplexed. "Yeah. Yeah, two hours."

"A-and you'll-" Peter stopped himself. He'd been about to ask 'You'll definitely come back?' He reminded himself of a dog getting left behind by an owner.

"What?" Flash asked. Peter could only stare at him, a bit helplessly. Some of Peter's embarrassment must have transferred to Flash, because he shifted uneasily from foot to foot and nodded resolutely. "Peter, I-" He faltered. "I-yeah. Two hours. Um. Bye, Peter."

"A-ah-uh-Have-Have fun," Peter stumbled, removing his hands from the elevator doors and finally letting them close. As he listened to the mechanics take Flash back downstairs for his training session, Peter resisted the urge to headbutt the metal left behind.

Have fun? Have fun?! What the hell was wrong with him?

A soft noise from behind him made Peter turn, and he found Harry with his arms crossed over his stomach and head bent while he chuckled softly. He looked up at Peter with a knowing grin.

"Well today was already going to be different. This is like a cherry on top," he said, all amusement.

Peter felt his cheeks heat and could do nothing to stop it.

After a few moments of silent torture, Harry recovered his composure and motioned for Peter to follow him. "Come this way. I want to show you something."

They walked down a hall to a second elevator Peter had never ridden before. With a swipe of Harry's keycard, the door slid open and they stepped inside. It was a large elevator, with enough space for transporting a table or perhaps a bed.

Frowning, Peter took one last look at the dimensions before asking, "Is this a hospital elevator?"

"A bit bigger." Harry smiled proudly at Peter for the observation. "As you know, my father is very sick. What you and most of the world are unaware of is that doctors have given him only a few more months to live. Eventually, we'll need to fit his hospital bed in here, but so far it has been used to transport supplies."

"Supplies?" Peter was starting to get an idea of what they might be headed for.

When the doors opened, Peter found himself in a lab not unlike that of the one in France. The edges of it were filled with tables covered in centrifuges and microscopes and all manner of tiny objects needed for precise measuring. The center of the room was a console like Peter and Dr. Connors had used, and Peter wondered what experiments they were running on its computer.

The main lab had a door in the back to what looked like an operating room. There was an almost vertical operating table, with restraints designed to help hold up someone whose body was not up for the task of holding itself up. Machines with empty vials and empty tubes and empty needles were already set and prepped nearby, ready for a patient they may never get. There was a large lamp and several medical machines for monitoring heart rate, oxygen levels, and other bodily functions. Harry was prepared for a full medical emergency.

"What is this?" Peter asked, pacing the room. "This is for your dad?"

"This is the culmination of more than a year of study into my father's illness. We expect to be ready for human testing by the end of the month. Usually, this room never stops working, but I asked everyone to take a long lunch break today. I wanted to show you our work." Harry dragged a finger along the bottom of the console, not hitting any buttons. "I have the best scientists in the country working on this. But there is one point on which I don't trust any of their judgments. In fact, after all of our discussions these past several months, I have come to believe you are the only one I can trust to ask."

"Ask what? If you're this close to human testing, I don't see what I can add to your research." Movement caught Peter's eye in the operating room and he frowned. "You're testing on live rats?" He asked and pointed at the small cage in the corner of the operating room.

Harry laughed, a free and yet ironic sound. "No, no. Those four are not on the table for experimenting. I'm just a fan of the sentimentality aspect." Then the young C.E.O. clapped his hands together. "But let's divert for a moment. I want to talk about you and Mr. Thompson. You two seem a bit – well I don't know how else to say this – uncomfortable around each other."

"What?" Peter was thrown by the sudden subject change and scrambled to catch up with it. "N-No. We're fine. Everything's totally fine."

Now Harry smiled at him, a soft thing someone would normally save for an amusing but pouting child. "I realize I am the result of a secluded life and an emotionally failing father, but you know I'm not blind to the feelings of others. The two of you were tripping over yourselves in the elevator. In your case, I'm sure literally."

Harry Osborn was not the most emotionally adept person Peter had ever met. He expressed, on numerous occasions, his inability to understand love or why people would be willing let themselves fall into it. However, he never said a cross word about Peter's relationship with Gwen. Harry also didn't understand, exactly, how close someone could be with an adult that was not their parent. The extent to which Peter trusted Aunt May, and worse Tony Stark, was a source of constant curiosity for Harry, but he never warned Peter against pursuing those relationships.

That was the great thing about Harry. He didn't understand the emotions behind certain actions, but he knew how to read the room and recognize those attachments in others, and he never villanized those attachments... unless he saw them as harmful or undesirable. So far for Peter, Harry had left all relationships more or less alone.

Until today, apparently. But- But Flash and Peter weren't having a problem – at least not one that Flash knew about. Except that he seemed to know too. But that was impossible. And-

"It's nothing. I just... I've got some things to... There are some unknown variables I need to quantify before I can move forward on something," Peter explained, trying to explain with lingo Harry might better understand or accept.

The other man nodded slowly. "I suspected as much. Listen closely, Peter. Sometimes, for the sake of the experiment, or more precisely for the end results, you have to make do without knowing all the variables. Sometimes you must, for lack of a better term, take shortcuts. So now is the time for you to move forward. Don't let fear hold you back - not from anything." He held a hand up when Peter tried to argue, effectively silencing him. "Whatever is going on between you and Mr. Thompson is none of my business, I suppose, but as I've already interfered in his feelings, I feel it's only fair I counsel yours as well. After all, you're my friend, and one day we'll do amazing things together. If I let you stumble, we will both fall."

Why did he always sound so prophetic, so assured of what they'd accomplish together? Peter tried to smile, but his gut was twisting. He liked Harry. He liked him a lot. But it was uncomfortable imagining his life so utterly wrapped together with the other scientist's. Harry's ideas were grand and life changing, and he would undoubtedly change the whole world, but Peter could barely see beyond the month, beyond New York. How was he supposed to accept a plan for him to become synonymous with OsCorp forever?

The terminology in Harry's advice also left a bad taste in Peter's mouth. Cut corners in an experiment? Ignore variables? These were actions that could doom an experiment to an endless loop of failure, get your funding cut, or end with someone injured. It might end with success and the results you wanted, but how would you know what to do to recreate the results? It was just bad science.

But Peter could see what his friend was trying to do. This wasn't a real experiment he was talking about. This was Peter's relationship with Flash, and relationships weren't science experiments. Sometimes, there was just no way to quantify the variables, because the variables were always changing. Even though Harry's example was poorly chosen, the message was still discernible... if not perfectly clear. Peter still had to figure out how such advice would help him handle his situation with Flash.

"Thanks, Harry," Peter said despite his inner turmoil. "Now what did you want my input on for the experiment?"

Nodding, Harry tapped the console and the holographic display came up. "I'm going to show you our current results, and you, with your experience and knowledge and morality, will help me understand the consequences."

"Of what?" Peter saw data of failed experiments that far outnumbered the data of successes. Harry claimed he was almost ready for human trials, but so far Peter saw only a need to slow down.

"Of skipping the final tests and beginning human testing as soon as next week," Harry said. When Peter turned his alarmed eyes on his friend, he was met with the most serious expression ever seen on Harry Osborn's face. He was grave and calculating and full of steadfast intent. "My father can barely breathe these days. He doesn't have months. He has weeks. I don't care what the doctors are saying. I need to speed up the timeline, and you're going to help me figure out how to do it."

Swallowing heavily, Peter was already running the data in his head without even reading the test results. He doubted anything Harry could show him would convince him that final tests weren't needed, that they didn't need to be at least ninety percent sure of success in animals before moving on to humans.

"Even if we can figure out how to speed up the timeline," Peter said, choosing his words carefully, "I don't know that I can help you convince all the scientists to ignore safety protocol and go along with the decision."

Harry grinned once more, this time effortlessly. "Don't worry about that," he said. "That's already been handled."

He looked no less certain of his decision, no more swayed toward the side of caution, and Peter knew this would be the worst two hour visit he'd ever had with Harry Osborn. But he had to bear it, because Harry was his friend and he had to convince him to see reason.

…

…

The training mat wasn't hard, but it also wasn't soft when you were slammed into it by an Avenger. Peter groaned and rolled over, barely avoiding a knee to the back from Natasha. Instead of attacking him again, like Peter knew she could with his vulnerable position, she simply knelt beside him.

"This is the least competent I've ever see you," she commented with narrowed eyes. "So either you're an imposter, or something's distracting you."

Peter sat up. "No no. Nothing's-I'm fine. I'm ready to-"

In an instant, he was back on the floor Natasha pinning him down with his arms pulled behind his back, with barely a blip of his spider-sense. "Yes," Natasha quipped blandly. "You are ready. Ready to die."

She let him up and took several steps back. When Peter stood up, she bent her knees a fraction and brought her hands up in preparation for the next round. Peter mimicked her, trying his best to hold a firm stance while also holding a conversation.

"Okay, say hypothetically, a superhero had a relationship with someone who wasn't a superhero-"

Natasha darted forward. Only Peter's spider-sense allowed him to dodge her fist aimed at his throat, moving as swiftly as a scorpion's tail.

"-and that non superhero didn't know the superhero was the superhero?" Peter finished his question, punching out at Natasha.

She grabbed his wrist and used it to flip him in the air like a flapjack. Peter managed to land in a crouch rather than on his face and jumped away as she kicked out at him. With some space between them, Peter could've stood up and gone back to the resting stance but he remained down, defensive but also ready for a swift move in any direction.

The assassin flipped her red hair out of her eyes and huffed. "Having a relationship with someone who's part of this business along with us is hard enough. Look at Tony and Steve," she said, briefly motioning to the side. Peter didn't move his eyes from her, knowing it would only invite an attack. Natasha's lips lifted slightly, showing her approval of the non-action.

Deciding to take the offensive, Peter hurried forward and aimed a punch at Natasha's face. She shifted to the left and Peter spun, using his left leg to try and trip her. She jumped over it like a jump rope, but looked pleased.

"But I had a relationship before, and it was fine," Peter said, then frowned. "I mean. It _was_ fine. And then it wasn't. But it was fine before that."

Momentarily lost to memories of Gwen, Peter was struck in the chest and sent toppling over backward. In a second, Natasha had his hands pinned above his head and was sitting on his chest. She grinned down at him and it was, frankly, terrifying. After a few moments, her expression became pensive. "Even Pepper struggles to cope with a partner who lives the life of an Avenger, and we can all agree that my work causes her less stress than Tony's ever would."

Peter frowned and didn't even attempt to move her. "So…you're saying that dating's kind of out of the picture? That I shouldn't-That it's not-"

When his eyes trailed to the side, Natasha smacked him lightly on the face so he would keep looking at her. "I'm saying it's difficult. But you're question was about someone who isn't on our team, who doesn't know you're Spider-man."

Flushing, Peter said, "I never said it was me!"

The look Natasha gave him let him know just how dumb he was being. Then she was up and backing away to let Peter up so they could start again.

"Dating in and of itself is tedious, but the other person is what makes it appealing. Even so, our enemies could use them against us. We have to be careful who we choose to trust," Natasha told him once he was ready. "If you're going to take that risk, you'd better be sure the person is worth it. That's all I've got to say about it."

She lifted her arms and gave Peter about two seconds to follow suit before she was coming at him again. She punched, he dodged. He kicked, she jumped. She grabbed, he broke the hold. He punched, she parried. And all the while, Peter thought.

Gwen had been worth it. He knew she'd never betray his secret. He knew her feelings toward him wouldn't change. She hadn't been able to stay with him, but those facts had never been in question. Peter had barely hesitated in telling her who he was, but that was before he'd faced off against any real big threats. That was before anyone had died, other than his uncle. That was before he felt any responsibility for his gifts. If they'd gotten together later, after everything, now, would he be so quick to tell her?

It was easy to say yes when the point was moot anyway. She knew. Peter would never regret letting her know him, all of him. He would've hated having to lie to her. Their relationship would never have worked for as long as it did if he hadn't told her.

Was Flash worth it? He was a bodyguard, and an athlete, and he could handle himself against most regular opponents. He'd grown so much in such a short time, becoming a better person with nothing but force of will and someone to look up to, someone who let him know he could be better. Flash, now, was the kind of person Peter knew wouldn't leak his secret. He was a person that Peter felt no hesitation in standing up for. Peter trusted Flash with his life, so why not his secret? Even Gwen had said he would probably take it well.

Just as Natasha flipped Peter onto the mat again, another thought popped into Peter's head. What would Harry say if he knew Peter's secret?

That led to thoughts about Harry's experiments trying to save his father. He was willing to skip steps, to rush the process, to test on humans before having reliable results.

Peter pushed himself up onto his elbows but didn't stand. "What if you had a friend, not romantic, who…w-who was going too far? Or, or might go too far. How do you pull them back?" He turned his head to look over his shoulder at Natasha. "How do you stop them before something bad happens?"

For a few moments, they simply looked at one another. Natasha's face was unreadable, but Peter hadn't expected to be able to read the Black Widow. She would give him a straight answer, even if it wasn't what he wanted to hear, but she would think it through carefully first.

She waved for him to get up and he did, falling back into a ready stance on autopilot. Surprisingly, Natasha didn't. She regarded Peter thoughtfully, a slight frown pulling on her lips.

"Talk to them. Show them how close they are. Get them medical help if they need it. Give them support," she said at length.

Peter frowned. It sounded like the usual stuff, but Peter wasn't sure how much that would help someone like Harry. "And if that doesn't work?"

"When someone crosses that line and becomes dangerous – to others or to themselves, you don't have a choice but to stop them," Natasha said, and it sounded like she was speaking from experience. Her tone was heavy with memory. "Even if that means taking them down. You can be a voice of reason, a voice of hope, but if you let them hurt someone then it's on you."

The people likely to get hurt by Harry's experiments were his test subjects and his father. Peter had talked to Harry, done his best to convince him to run more non-human tests, to slow down and not skip steps. He'd told Harry he thought it was more dangerous to charge ahead than to follow the correct procedures. He'd said Norman Osborne would benefit from the extra care. But if that didn't work, what could Peter do? Should he sneak into OsCorp and destroy the materials? But that would only make Harry more irrational, having to start from scratch. And his father didn't have time for them to do that anyway. Peter would be killing Harry's father if he messed with the test data and materials. So what could he do?

"Remember, Peter," Natasha said, and the use of his name caught him off guard for a moment, "if you need help, you have a team standing behind you now."

The smile she gave him was soft, reassuring. Peter returned it with one that was grateful. He'd keep an eye on Harry and try to mediate his mania with logic. If things appeared to be escalating or devolving, he'd call on Tony and the Avengers. If they didn't know how to handle geniuses with too much time and money on their hands, he didn't know who did.

…

…

Flash wasn't sitting across the hall when Peter's class got out that Friday. He was directly next to the door, fidgeting and one second from pacing. He grabbed Peter by the arm almost as soon as Peter cleared the door frame, dragging him off down the hall and outside like the building was about to explode. For a moment, it seemed like Peter would pull away, force Flash to release him. There were times when Flash actually believed that, in a fair fight, he'd be no match for Peter.

Instead, Peter let Flash drag him out of the building and down the block and into an empty alley only a few feet wide next to a business that appeared to be closed.

"What the heck, Flash?" Peter asked once they were stopped, a bit cross at the manhandling and yet with a confusing pink tint on his cheeks. He looked back out toward the road rather than at Flash. "Is there some kind of danger in the park?"

That blush was part of Flash's problem. Peter kept doing that. The last few days, Flash had been unable to look at Peter without remembering that Harry knew about Flash's crush on Peter. More importantly, he couldn't stop thinking about how Spider-man had kissed him. Flash would look at Peter, at the curve of his lips, and remember Spider-man's mask pulled up, how he'd leaned down and kissed Flash. He'd been struggling, like he was some dudebro who'd cheated on their significant other. It was hard, nearly impossible, to look Peter in the eyes or hold a conversation.

And Peter picked up on it. Flash was certain that it was his own awkward, guilty behavior that had Peter acting like a startled cat - jumpy and avoiding touch and wide eyed. It was Flash's fault that Peter couldn't even look at Flash anymore. He hated it, and he was going to fix it.

Flash shook his head. "No. No, I just…I needed to talk to…Look, something happened and I-" He grumbled and ran a hand over his short hair. He needed to tell Peter. He needed to-

In the face of Flash's obvious anxiety, Peter's irritation vanished. He looked Flash directly in the face for the first time in what felt like forever. "Flash, what happened?" he asked, even his eyes turning steely serious.

In the four and a half months that he'd been guarding Peter, and in the year or so they'd been almost-friends before that, and in the almost decade he'd known and picked on Peter before that, Flash had only ever seen this look once. Only one time had he seen the fortification necessary for violence appear in Peter Parker's eyes – the day after his uncle had died. At the time, Peter had been upset, on the verge of tears, and lashed out without warning. This was different. Peter was impossibly calm. He didn't even seem tense, yet Flash knew from that tone and from those eyes that Peter would try and fight off whatever or whoever had done Flash wrong.

In that moment, Flash wondered if Peter actually needed a bodyguard or if Peter was simply humoring Harry because they were friends. In that moment, Flash thought Peter could take him apart with one blow.

"Nothing dangerous," Flash assured Peter, not liking the idea of Peter rushing off to fight Spider-Man. Even if Peter could defend himself, Spider-Man was Spider-Man. Even a professional fighter couldn't beat him. "I just-I need advice," spilled from his mouth almost as soon as he'd thought it.

The flint left Peter's eyes and in its place was the usual stuttering Parker that Flash had come to know and love. It was safer, but now Flash was curious about that other side of Peter that he'd only rarely seen before.

Stay on topic, Thompson.

"I'm not really good at-" Peter started, nervously.

"Spider-Man kissed me," Flash blurted out.

Peter's words stopped as harshly as a derailed train. That pink tinge was back in his cheeks and his eyes were wide open, though his pupils were small. Was that a good reaction or a bad reaction? Was this getting more or less uncomfortable than before? It kind of felt worse. Shit.

"What?" The word was so quiet that Flash almost missed it in the sounds of daily life around them.

He rubbed at his face with one hand, the other propped on his hip. "It just happened, I don't know. I was doing something stupid and then he saved me and then suddenly-" Flash blushed, remembering the scene in his bedroom. "But I need your advice on what to do."

Something akin to the whine let out by an injured dog escaped Peter's throat for a moment, and then a half-hysterical laugh that actually had Flash worried for his charge instead of for himself. "My-My advice? Wwwwhat kind of advice?"

This is where it got really awkward. Asking your crush what they would do if someone else asked you out? That was the plot of a bad teen romantic comedy or an ABC 'drama' that read more like a soap opera. But it was what Flash had been struggling with for days now, and he had to get it out or risk combusting. This could either push Peter away from him, or fix what had come loose between them and bring them closer. God he hoped for the latter.

"Uh, well," he tried, coughing once to try and remove the lump that had formed in his throat. "What, uh, what would you do?"

Peter's voice cracked when he asked, "What would _I_ do?"

It was obvious that Peter was uncomfortable with this conversation. Flash would've ended it, brushed it off, moved on, except he'd already asked and Peter's reaction made him exceedingly curious. Was Peter upset that Spider-Man had kissed him? Was Peter, maybe, even a little bit, jealous?

"Yeah. If, say, Spider-Man kissed you, what would you do, since you like Gwen and not him?" Flash asked, sounding almost normal, as if this were any other conversation they'd had.

Peter grimaced for a moment, as if the thought was actually a little disgusting, and Flash worried. He'd gotten the impression that Peter liked him, if not enough to date. Did Peter not like guys? Did Peter not like the idea of guys liking guys? The thought had honestly never occurred to Flash, just like it had never occurred to him that Spider-Man would have an issue either.

He didn't think Peter was about to kiss him though.

Then Peter shuffled his feet, lowering his head just enough that his hair hid his eyes. "I…If you're asking, what would I do if I liked one person and someone else kissed me, someone I admired…I…" He scuffed his toe on the cement and stuffed his hands in his pockets, then looked up at Flash with an expression that was a little bit hopeless.

Flash hated Peter looking hopeless. God, he'd been fighting to make that look go away for weeks – it was why he was on the outs with Osborn even – and now he'd brought it back himself. Flash wanted to kick his own ass.

"Peter-"

"Don't," Peter broke in with a shake of his head. "Don't date someone you don't want to. Even…Even if it's Spider-Man, that's no reason to-Flash, if you like someone, go for it. Spider-Man, he, he isn't, you can't date Spider-Man." It was said with conviction that surprised Flash. Peter removed his hands from his pockets so he could wave them around as he spoke. "You can't go to the movies with Spider-Man or get dinner with Spider-Man or walk down the street with Spider-Man. He can't go to the museum with you or the Statue of Liberty or a food truck. You can't sit around reading with Spider-Man or take him to the gym. He's-he's not real. He's a hero. He's what everyone needs him to be. He's more of an idea than a man. I can't believe I'd-he'd, I can't believe he ever thought it was okay to kiss you."

That frustration felt a bit like a punch to Flash's gut. "I thought you liked Spider-Man."

Peter groaned and tugged at his own hair. "I do. I mean, I usually do. But Flash, that was so unfair to you and I'm so sorry it happened and….I mean, I know you really admire him, and you defended him and you got him into the Avengers even, but…If you like someone else, then please don't give in to him just cause he's a hero." He pressed the palms of his hands into his eyes. "Because more than likely he's just going to disappoint you and, and, and, you deserve better than that Flash."

Flash wasn't sure if he should be upset because Peter was talking bad about Spider-Man, happy because Peter was defending Flash, or hopeful because maybe this meant Peter liked him the way Flash liked Peter. All of the things Peter had said Flash couldn't do with Spider-Man were things Flash had done with Peter. That had to mean something, didn't it?

Before Flash could come up with a response, Peter lowered his hands, gave himself a shake, and cleared his throat. "That was, uh, probably more advice than you wanted. Or less. Sorry. Um. We'd better get to the station or we'll miss...I'm tired and Aunt May wanted me home early today anyway."

Since Spider-Man had appeared in New York, Flash had grown as a person. Not as much as he wanted to, but enough that he could tell that pushing Peter about his response was the exact wrong thing to do right now. Maybe in a few days he could broach the subject again, but right now Peter was too wired, too anxious. So Flash agreed to get Peter home early today and walked him to the station.

He hadn't gotten nearly the response he'd expected when he'd pulled Peter into that alley. And he wasn't sure what to make of the response he did get anyway. What Flash did get, though, was an inkling of hope. Peter's response was way too animated and passionate for him to have no feelings for Flash at all.

Harry Osborn might not want Flash to use company money for dates, but he hadn't told Flash to back off. You could say he'd encouraged Flash, even.

Peter had just given Flash a bit more encouragement. In Flash's book, that was definitely a step in the right direction.


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh don’t mind me. I’m just flailing over how this fic is gonna be the Second Longest Fic I’ve Ever Posted For at almost 88k, and at how awesome you all are in this fandom, making this fic already my 5th most commented on and subscribed to fic.
> 
> I know it’s in conjunction with DLanaDHZ, but those are amazing stats. We never expected to get stats like this when posting this fic. We know this fandom is small and the pairing is not the most popular. But you are all fantastic and we love you so much. Thank you. Thank you so so much. Grazie mille!

Getting into Avengers Tower after a mission was a process. If it was a long distance mission, they'd all be in the jet and then it was easy. But if they'd stayed within about fifty miles, then each team member tended to find their own transportation. Today's mission had taken them as far as Central Station, so no jet.

Before, Spider-man had either used the front door or climbed up the side of the building or come in through the back and then used webbing to scale a shit ton of stairs in minutes. Now was a different story.

Tony had Steve in his arms, flying them both to the Iron Man landing point on the edge of the building. Clint had gone elsewhere after complaining about how he couldn't actually fly, thank you very much. And Natasha and Bruce hadn't even been part of the mission. Peter had fun getting to the tower.

Peter swung off the closest tall building, pointed his hands down, and gusts of plasma energy shot from his hands and feet. He pinwheeled around in the air for a few disorienting seconds, then put his arms out to the side and cut the power. Something akin to Peter's webbing spread between his arms and legs and torso, turning his spider suit into almost a wingsuit. Then he just had to control his glide as he came to a landing on the same landing point Tony had - if not as gracefully. Once his feet touched down, the webbing pulled away, leaving just the red and blue suit behind.

As soon as Peter was inside of Avengers Tower, he pulled the mask off and beamed. "Tony, this suit is awesome! The reaction time is perfect. I just had to glance at the bombs at the station and suddenly my webs were coating them so they couldn't go off. And the flying! I mean, I love swinging, don't get me wrong, but actual _flying_!"

Tony turned to him after he and Steve separated. "Yeah, champ, about the flying," he began, heading for the fridge while the blue in Peter's suit faded slowly back to gold. "I let you use them during practice because you need to know how to control your body movements if they become necessary." Like if your pilot drops you out the bottom of a plane without a shoot. "But the more you use those thrusters, the more dehydrated you're gonna be, so try to keep that to a minimum. Use your normal webs and glide. Drink up."

Peter caught the water bottle that came sailing through the air at him and took several deep gulps. He felt like he was riding a high. He was getting the hang of the new suit and it was a-maze-ing. They'd just stopped a small terrorist cell from blowing up Central Station. Life was good.

"It's also late, so you should head home. Your friend picks you up early for class, right?" Steve commented, setting his mask on the island counter.

Peter shook his head. "I was actually thinking of using the skate park on the sports floor," he said. Thinking about Flash made the high lessen. He hadn't thought about Flash during this whole mission, but if he went home it would be all he could think about.

He only barely caught the look that passed between Steve and Tony, not enough to try and parse out what it meant.

"Is something wrong at home, Peter?" Steve asked.

That made Peter jerk back, though neither other man was near him. "What? No! That's not-No way," he refuted with a hard shake of his head.

Tony moved to stand next to Steve. "Then what's with the avoidance shtick?"

"It's not an-What's the big deal if I hang around a bit? Steve never leaves either," Peter complained. He drained the water bottle and then moved to throw it in the trash.

Again, Tony and Steve exchanged a look. "I also don't live with my aunt," Steve said after a few moments.

Peter bristled. "I'm not a child. I know I'm the youngest, but legally I'm an adult, so don't treat me like a kid."

With a frown that somehow looked fond, Tony closed the space between them and wrapped an arm around Peter's shoulders. "You'll always be my kid. Law says so. Godfather equals godson. Sons are always kids to their fathers, even when they're sixty. And Cap is ancient, so everyone looks like a young-in to him." Steve barely passed him a glare.

Peter couldn't argue with that, he supposed. He hoped being babied by the two of them would taper off soon, but he figured being seen as their kid wasn't the end of the world otherwise. Who else could say both Iron Man and Captain America thought of them as family?

"Now, tell Papa Bear why you don't want to go home."

Peter would've rolled his eyes except for the serious conversation. His eyes instead focused on the back of the couch to his right. "It's not about home. It's about...having too much time to think."

Moving closer, but still over an arm's length away, Steve asked, "Think about what?"

"Flash," Peter admitted after a long pause. "I already asked Nat about it and she said that I have to be sure the benefits outweigh the risks before I tell him about me. And Aunt May said it was okay to feel like this, but...So much has happened so fast. His opinion of Spider-man...I-I don't know what'll change once he knows it's me. I don't know if I even want him to know anymore. Spider-man got between me and Gwen. I just...I don't want him to get between me and Flash too, you know?"

"Sounds like one hell of a problem," Tony quipped lightly. It contrasted so much with Peter's heavy thoughts that it took him a moment to focus on the words. Tony pat him using the arm still around his shoulders. "I don't have to worry about that because the world already knows who I am. Hey, maybe you should do a press release. Then you won't have to worry about it."

"Tony," Steve admonished with a frown.

Tony removed his arm from Peter so he could hold his hands up in surrender. "Right, bad advice, keep it to yourself. I know."

Steve turned his attention to Peter. "It sounds like you care about Flash a lot," he said. Peter nodded and did his best to hold the captain's gaze. "Tony and I are lucky. No one we've cared about hasn't known who we are. We're both public figures and the world knows our faces. You're different."

"We could change that," Tony quipped half-heartedly from his position next to Peter. They both ignored him.

"That means that anything we tell you, any advice we have, won't be from personal experience. Or at least, not experiences like what you'll face," Steve continued.

Peter passed his mask between his hands. The fact that it didn't fold like fabric anymore was going to take some getting used to. "Any advice is good at this point. I'm so turned around in my own head I don't know which way is up."

For a few moments, Tony and Steve just stared at each other. It was a silent conversation. Peter had always envied people who could do that. He stumbled over his words so much out loud that being able to communicate without them would be useful.

With a sigh, Tony pulled away from Peter. Peter had about a second to wonder about the suddenly heavier atmosphere before Tony spoke again.

"Okay okay. Peter," the use of his actual name put Peter on edge, "we have something to tell you."

When it became apparent that Tony either would not or could not continue, Steve took over. "Tony and I are an item."

Peter blinked once, twice, but nothing further came from the two men. "O…kay?"

"That's a personal experience," Tony said. "So it matters."

"Okay," Peter said again. "But I already knew that."

"What."

Peter waved at Steve, who looked as gobsmacked as Tony did. "I already said he never leaves. He lives here. With you. You-I mean-You pair up on every mission. And you either support each other or bicker like an old married couple. Even-Even Nat teases you about it! Was it a secret? Was I not supposed to know?"

It looked like Tony wasn't sure if he should be upset or relieved. His eyebrows looked like they were doing pull ups, going up to his hairline and then down low over his eyes, repeat repeat. And his hand kept lifting slightly before lowering, giving the impression of someone moving to drink from a cup that's already empty.

"I need a drink," Tony said at last, moving around the counter to pour himself a scotch from the stocked bar.

That seemed to knock Steve out of his own stupor. "Tony was worried it would affect your relationship," he said solemnly, then smiled. "I guess we both forgot how smart you are."

Behind the counter, Tony downed his drink in one go.

"I guess?" Peter shook himself. "Not that I'm not happy we're airing concerns or whatever, and I'm glad you two are, uh, happy together? But what does that have to do with my issue with Flash?"

Steve crossed his arms, making him seem bigger than he already was. Peter thought it was more of a defensive gesture to hide his embarrassment than something meant to be intimidating. "We're both Avengers, superheroes. We know each other's secrets. It makes us stronger, both as a couple and as a team."

"Telling your boyfriend about your alter ego, if he accepts it, should have something of a similar effect," Tony agreed, sounding as if he were coming out of a dream.

A flush spread over Peter's cheeks. "He's not my-We're not-It's-"

A ringing echoed through the open room, cutting off Peter's babble. Tony pulled his phone from his pocket and frowned at the caller ID.

"The colonel?" Steve asked, since Tony's phone was pretty see through and they could both see the symbol for S.H.I.E.L.D. on the screen.

Sighing, Tony said, "Can you handle this solo?"

Steve barely gave a nod before Tony was heading out of the room, putting the phone to his ear. "What can I do for you, Mad-Eye? This can't be about the mission, right? Cause I think it went superbly. Get it? Super-bly?"

His voice grew more distant the farther into the hallway he got, and Steve and Peter focused on each other in his absence.

"Peter," Steve said, stepping forward to place a hand on Peter's shoulder. "Honestly, here's the simplest answer I can give you. If you care about him this much, and he cares about you too, then he'll be fine if you tell him who you are. Worrying about it is natural, but if you want to be with him then you can't lie to him. And lying by omission is still lying," he added when Peter opened his mouth. It was wrong that he knew Peter that well already. "You're worried that Spider-man will come between you two. Trust me when I say, if he doesn't know you're Spider-man, then I can guarantee that he will."

…

…

If he didn't tell Flash about Spider-man, Spider-man would come between them. Even when he tried to remind himself that Spider-man had come between Gwen and him and she'd known about it... Steve was still right. Lies and secrets only worked to keep people at a distance. People could sense secrets.

But that didn't mean he could just blurt it out. He had to, like, test the waters.

"So-," he started, and maybe he shouldn't have started when his mouth was full of fries. Bad start. Bad Peter. Flash, whose mouth was equally full, just smiled at him like he was two beats away from laughing and waited for Peter to get his shit together. When he'd managed to swallow his food, Peter tried again. "So, besides, like, basketball, you like superheroes, right?"

Flash nodded and swallowed a mouthful of burger. "Definitely. I mean, Spider-man, obviously. I mean, have you seen his new Iron Spider suit? Man, Iron Man gave him a serious upgrade for joining the Avengers. So awesome. Not that he wasn't awesome before, but you know." He was blushing and trying not to. It was cute. "But I like other heroes too. Captain America. Your godfather. Dude, there's those guys up north, the mutants. Black Widow! I'm still in shock that I was within ten feet of her."

Peter laughed half-heartedly. "Ah, trust me. She's probably more terrifying once you actually know her. Her roundhouse will leave you limping for a day."

Halfway through another bite, Flash almost choked. "You- You've FOUGHT her?!"

Oops? "Uh, yeah. We've- We've sparred a- a couple of times." He rubbed the side of his face with his hand and then had to rub it with his sleeve when that got hamburger grease on his cheek. "Eugh. I mean, she didn't like break me, obviously. But yeah. It's happened."

"Dude, one day you need to let me come hang with you while you're at the tower." Flash looked more in awe of the situation the longer he thought about it. Should Peter be worried or happy about that? At least he wasn't freaking out about Peter getting bruises. That was a step up.

They went silent to eat a bit, and then Peter wrinkled his nose, trying to hash out the next step. "So. About Tony. What do you think- Like imagine you found out Spider-man was your brother."

"I don't have a-"

"Yeah, duh! I know that. I mean, imagine. Like, can you imagine?" Peter made a sweeping hand motion above his head. "Like- Like in DC comics, when Lois Lane finds out her coworker and friend, Clark Kent, is Superman. Right? Like what would you do if-"

Flash slapped his hand down on his knee and startled Peter from continuing, but he didn't look upset. He was nodding and looking assured. "I would probably lose it," he said seriously. "I mean, my brother turns out to be a superhero? Like, I thought I knew you, bro. You know? I mean, first of all, how could my kid-brother even hide that from me to begin with? We're brothers! I should have noticed! Or, you know, he should have told me. I mean, why didn't he trust me?"

Peter's heart sank and his stomach suddenly didn't like the idea of finishing his burger. No. No this was not where he'd wanted the conversation to go at all. He'd hoped- How could he reveal himself after this?

"But, at the same time," Flash continued, looking up at the buildings around them. "I mean, after the shock wore off... He's my brother, you know? And he's a hero. Like, how could I hold it against him? Sure I'm gonna scold the crap out of him, and I'm gonna worry about him. But he's my brother, and I'm gonna support him." Suddenly he frowned and lowered his eyes to the pavement. Quietly he added, "Man, I'm suddenly really glad I don't have a brother. I was getting nervous for a second."

Okay. Peter couldn't help it. He laughed. That hope-inducing follow-up and then the little murmured comment, so full of relief? It was impossible not to laugh. There was one loud "Ha!" and then Peter was giggling and trying to hide it behind his half-eaten burger. Flash shook his head and tossed a few fries at Peter's face, but he was smiling too.

"Shut up," he grumbled. "It's your fault."

"Sorry, sorry," Peter said, his giggles dying away.

"And anyway, the scenario isn't really what you were going for, is it?" Flash motioned down the street toward Avenger's Tower. It wasn't in view, but it was in that direction. "Tony isn't your brother. You didn't know him for years before you found out he was a hero. You met him after everyone knew he was Iron Man. I mean, yeah, he sent you cards or whatever, but... I can't even imagine having someone like that. Someone whose so much larger than life, so famous, and suddenly they're in your life all the time. It's like finding out your aunt is Beyonce. I don't think there's a hypothetical situation that would get me even close to how that feels. It's gotta be awesome and stressful at the same time."

Eating a few fries, Peter nodded. "Yeah. But it's not so different from the hypothetical. I mean, at first you're sort of star-struck, you know? But then- I don't know. I know Tony gets into just as much trouble in his lab as he does in battle, and I worry about him. But part of me thinks nothing can hurt him, you know? And I have to remind myself that he's just human, like anybody else. He doesn't have superhuman healing like the Captain or like- or like Spider-man. But-"

"But you can't tell him to stop, 'cause then you'll lose him," Flash finished with a knowing nod. When Peter looked at him curiously, he shrugged. "It's something Captain Rogers told me. You can't change people. So you have to accept them. If you try to stop your godfather from being a superhero, you'll just end up pushing him away. Like my brother. If I love him and want him in my life, I can't stay mad at him. I definitely can't take his shit away. He'll be a hero either way. So I gotta accept him." He hesitated and put a fry between his teeth. "Huh. Maybe the situations aren't so different after all."

They went quiet again and didn't start speaking again until their food was finished. Both seemed to need the break anyway. Peter's mind was buzzing. Maybe telling Flash wouldn't be so bad after all? Maybe he would understand? Of course, maybe he'd be pissed first, but then he'd forgive him. Isn't that what he just said? But that was for his hypothetical little brother, so who knew? Certainly not Peter. But it was nice to know Flash wouldn't try to tell him to stop.

Oh. Peter frowned as he balled up the remains of his trash. Speaking of telling people to stop, of pushing them away, Flash wasn't Peter's only problem. There was also Harry. He hadn't really spoken to Peter since Peter had advised him to slow down his experiments. He hadn't shouted, but he'd been cold when dismissing Peter. That was following Nat's advice, he thought, to tell Harry when the situation didn't feel right... and yet Harry had pushed him away.

"Sometimes," Peter murmured, tossing his trash away. Flash was right behind him and became more attentive at the sound of Peter's voice. "Sometimes it doesn't matter, though. Some people will push you away no matter what. And sometimes you have to stop someone for their own good, not because you don't believe in them. You just have to hope they see that in the end."

Flash frowned. "Is everything okay, Peter?"

With a sharp breath, Peter nodded and plastered a smile on his face. "What? Oh yeah. Yeah, ignore me. I'm just thinking hypothetical. Don't worry."

While he didn't look convinced, Flash didn't push either, and for that Peter was grateful. He didn't want to cast doubt on Harry. Yeah, the C.E.O. had been less than pleased with Peter's opinion, but surely he would take what Peter said to heart. He wasn't going to turn into a supervillain overnight. Harry was a scientist. He would be rational and logical.

Everything would be fine.

When Peter got home that night, he made it all the way to bed before it occurred to him that he hadn't even made an attempt to tell Flash about his secret identity. Well... Maybe next time? He had a day to think about it, at least, because tomorrow he'd be at the Tower training. Or maybe he could pop in to Flash's apartment again and reveal himself that way?

Oh. After what happened last time Spider-man was in Flash's apartment...? Maybe not. But that was fine. One day, eventually, Peter would tell him. Right? And Flash would forgive him. Right?

Everything would be fine.

…

…

The scene was a tough one inside Avenger's Tower. Outside, the sky was dark. Inside, Peter was face to face with an enemy close to home, an enemy he might not be able to defeat... but he had to defeat them. His life depended on it. Because if he didn't defeat this enemy, it would be hung over his head forever and make his life terrible. Peter grit his teeth and glared straight ahead. He had to win. He had to win. He had to-

"I win!" he shouted and jerked his hands up so fast that he pulled his game controller's cord out of the PS4. "Oops." Good thing it was done charging.

Beside him, Clint groaned and set his controller gently on the ground. "Damn it. You know, if the targeting on the game was better, I would have totally killed you."

"A true warrior does not complain about the tools he is given, my friend," a loud booming voice called out and then Thor was there, snatching up the controller. "He simply uses what he is given to achieve victory. As I shall do, for the honor of Asgard."

"Yeah?" Clint said. "Well I'm gonna go claim victory over the finger foods. And you bet no one's gonna beat me at that one. Cause I've got the best tools in the galaxy." And he wiggled his fingers in the air to demonstrate before escaping to the kitchen.

After letting Clint reach the kitchen, and after selecting his character, Thor lowered his voice and smiled at Peter as he said, "I know a formidable Asgardian warrior who would welcome such a fight. I have yet to see any being best Volstagg at feast or friendly gathering when it entails the consumption of food."

Peter smiled respectfully, but he wasn't sure how to reply. Luckily, the next round had loaded and his attention was pulled to the game instead. To be honest, he was really curious about how well a melee based fighter like Thor, with limited understanding of guns, would fare in a game entirely based on them.

Across the large room, in the open kitchen, Clint was picking at the spread of appetizers lining the bar counter while Natasha switched between stealing whatever he picked up and helping finish cook the main course. They playfully batted at each other's hands over pieces of meat and potato chips and looked more like a pair of siblings than teammates.

Pepper walked by the two with a glass baking dish filled with a chicken casserole, and she stole a quick kiss from Natasha as she went but she didn't really stop moving until she reached the long dining table set up on the side of the room. There, she sat the casserole dish on a mat and then returned to the kitchen for the next item. In the kitchen, she gently pushed Tony away from the fridge, where he was trying to peek at and steal some of the desserts. She pushed him right into Steve's chest, and the larger man chuckled and held Tony up.

"You're supposed to be on my side," Tony complained.

"I am on your side." Steve steadied Tony on his own feet and then released him. "But I'm also on the side of finishing these dishes so we can eat."

"But Cap, you don't understand. There's an apple pie in there straight from the heart of America herself, and I promised the good woman who baked it that you would explode when you ate it."

Steve looked confused despite his smile. "So I need to eat it sooner? I didn't realize you wanted me to explode so badly."

Shaking his head, Tony let himself be maneuvered away from the food. "No, of course not. But this pie, Steven. This pie is of the gods."

"Uh huh."

It was an Avenger's Thanksgiving – a potluck to remember. Sure, Thanksgiving had been, like, a week ago, but an avenging schedule never really meshed well with holidays. For one thing, they had to get a message to Thor, and for another, Bruce had been out of the country for a few weeks studying a new virus in South America that made babies have abnormally small heads. But, finally, they were all together.

Peter brought Aunt May's pie, as requested by Tony, and stuffing that he made from a box. Pepper made the chicken and pasta casserole and the green beans. Er. Well officially, Tony was meant to make the green beans, but Tony just didn't cook, so Pepper did it. Steve made a soup dish he said his mother used to make before she died, and he'd made it a few times for his war buddies because it required very little to make but was delicious. Bruce made cookies because he said baking was relaxing. They were decorated like Captain America shields, and no one teased him about it. Hawkeye brought bacon-wrapped sausages while Natasha brought most of the snack foods. And Thor brought an Asgardian bird that was most definitely not a turkey, but it looked good in the middle of the table and Thor claimed it tasted much the same. There was enough food by the end for two normal gatherings their size, but their gathering had a Thor and a Steve among other things.

After Thor beat Peter by one lucky headshot, Pepper called for the game to be shut off because she needed a bit of extra help and no one else was giving it. So Peter bounced into the kitchen and helped set the table and fill the cups.

Sometimes he still couldn't believe he was part of this mess. He was an Avenger. He got to see Earth's Mightiest Heroes out of costume, and they got to see him, and it was still so surreal when he stopped to think about it. Peter might very well be the luckiest 20-something in the world. Well, or not. But it felt like he was in moments like this.

"Thanks for the help, Peter," Pepper said as she set the last dish on the table. "You may be the youngest, but sometimes it's the rest of them that act like children."

"Even Natasha?" Peter asked.

With a teasing lift to her lips, Pepper nodded. "Even Natasha." Then, while everyone else was still milling about the bar with the snacks, Pepper turned her knowing look on Peter and set a gentle hand on his shoulder. "Nat filled me in on your… relationship trouble? I don't want to put you on the spot. I just thought I'd check in on how you're doing."

Peter rolled his eyes and groaned. "I'm not doing anything. Which I guess is the problem. Steve says I gotta tell Flash about Spidey, and I tested the waters, and they seem good, but it's hard, you know? I mean, I gotta tell him soon. And I will. Probably. But then I gotta tell him the other secrets too, and I think those are my biggest issues."

With a soft smile and a knowing glint in her eye, Pepper pat his shoulder and said, "Don't worry, Peter. Even if you make a mistake, it's not usually the end of the world. Trust me. I've been looking after Tony for a long time and he's still standing. But anyway, I brought up Mr. Thompson for another reason. I spoke with the other members and they've all agreed. Once Flash knows your secret, he's allowed to come to events like these."

Okay, he had not expected this turn in conversation. His eyes grew wide and his jaw dropped. "Flash? At Avenger parties?"

With a shrug, Pepper motioned to Jane, who had just walked in the room and was immediately engulfed in a Thor hug. "Standard procedure for all significant others. When they're in the area, of course. He doesn't have to come."

Then Jane wasn't the only one being hugged. Peter wrapped his long arms around Pepper for a quick moment before pulling back and beaming at her. "Holy shit, he would love that! You have no idea!" Flash! At an Avengers party! The other man might die from joy. Oh. Peter frowned slightly. "Oh. But I guess that means I have to tell him, then. Uh… Good pep talk?"

Now Pepper laughed. "Sure. Anytime."

She left him with a warm smile and set about getting everyone's attention to come eat. That didn't take much effort at all. As though called to action against a mega villain, the team surrounded the table and took up their utensils. Then bowls and dishes were passed around, generous helpings of food were dumped onto waiting plates or sometimes the table, and there was light bickering and lots of laughter before the first person even shoveled a single spoonful of stuffing into their watering mouth.

Peter was halfway finished with his plate, and fending off Clint trying to steal pieces of Asgardian turkey from it, when his phone rang. Glowing with familial warmth from the people he was with, Peter's mind jumped first to Aunt May, but she knew he was busy tonight with Tony. Oh! Flash! His smile was excited as he pulled his phone out, but it faltered when he saw the caller I.D.

"Hey, I'll be right back. I gotta take this," he said, scooting back from the table. Clint stole the meat, but seemed more interested in who could be pulling Peter away than in actually eating his prize.

"Hurry back, or there won't be anything left for you," the archer teased and warned.

Waving and nodding, Peter scampered quickly out of the room. The ringing had continued the whole time, and when he was alone, Peter still took another ring to gather himself.

"Heeeey," he answered, trying not to sound abnormal.

"Hey, yourself," Gwen answered back. "I need to talk to you right now. Are you busy?"

It wasn't the first time he'd called Gwen since the break up. Once he'd started moving on, it was easier to text her or call her, and she was pretty up to date on things… just not the whole 'Peter wants to date Flash' thing. If she noticed, she didn't say anything. But sometimes Peter still felt guilty when he spoke to her, and he couldn't stop it.

"Uh, sort of? But shoot. I'm listening." Part of him worried she knew about his new affections and was upset about it, jealous or feeling jilted. The rest of him told that part of him to shut up because it was being illogical.

"Harry's up to something," Gwen said, and wow, Peter hadn't expected that opener.

"What-?"

"There was an explosion on an upper floor this morning. A coworker of mine said he was part of some kind of project that Harry was heading, and then there was an actual explosion. It vibrated through half the building. And now that coworker is in the hospital," she explained. She certainly sounded concerned.

But it was ridiculous. Harry wouldn't have gone through with the experiment, and even if he had, there was nothing to cause an explosion… was there?

"Gwen, Harry's project has nothing to do with explosives," Peter assured. "It's about curing diseases."

"And now all the scientists involved are sick. Their hair is thinning rapidly. There's a strange rash," Gwen continued. "That doesn't seem fishy to you?"

Peter groaned. "Yeah, okay. It does. But I'm telling you, I talked Harry off the ledge. The explosion was an accident, and he got the scientists to the hospital, right?"

"Right." She didn't sound as though she liked where he was going with this.

"So everyone is being taken care of. Everything will be fine." He ran a hand through his hair and shrugged even though she couldn't see him. "Like… I totally understand being wary of geniuses with too much time on their hands, but I don't want to jump to conclusions about Harry. He's my friend."

The other end of the line was quiet for several moments, and Peter wished she had called about literally anything else. Peter doubted Harry enough on his own. He didn't need her doubts too. It just made him feel guilty.

"Okay. You might be right," she finally conceded. "The other scientists did get rushed to the hospital and all…. But I don't know, Peter. Something just feels wrong."

Now Peter smiled softly and shifted to hold the phone against his other ear. "It's the holidays, Gwen. Try to relax and get ready for Christmas." Gwen usually got stressed out around holidays. Peter had always thought it a good mark on her character that she got passionate about things that way.

With a sigh, she conceded further. "You're right. I'm just jumpy cause I haven't finished getting gifts for people yet and work deadlines are looming and, well, if I'm honest, I guess I've been watching OsCorp like a ticking bomb ever since Connors. It's not really fair to all the good people working here. Sorry."

"No, no. Don't apologize. You're keeping an eye out for suspicious behavior. It's a good thing." Peter nodded. From the other room, Thor shouted praises. "Hey, I'll keep an eye out too, alright? If Harry's up to something, I'll get on top of it. I promise."

"Thanks, Peter." She sounded like she was smiling now, and it made Peter feel warm at the same time it made him ache. "I'll let you go. Text me if anything big happens, alright? Remember, I'm still here for you."

"Right. Thank you, Gwen." And after a moment of silence they both hung up.

Maybe you never really get over old loves. Maybe you're not supposed to. Peter took a deep breath and tapped his phone in the middle of his forehead. It would be a lot easier if Gwen wasn't so wonderful. But he was moving on, and one day he could tell Gwen exactly who he was moving on to. Probably the same time he told Flash. Wwwwhhhyyyy were relationships so much stress?

Another rise in volume from the kitchen drew him back to the moment at hand, and he shook off his relationship concerns – at least for the night. Tonight was for food and jokes with his teammates. As he rounded the corner to the room again, he realized tonight would also be a time for a food fight. People were already flinging spoonfuls of stuffing and slivers of chicken at each other, and there was some kind of sauce on the window behind the table where casserole had made contact, and at least three people hand their hands pulled back to throw more.

He burst out laughing at the sight. Earth's Mightiest Heroes, all full grown adults, were such children! But at his laughter, they all froze, and some looked ashamed while others, mainly Tony, looked pleased. Bruce got the combatants to put down their weapons and "act like civilized people for once," but Peter was still laughing and the damage was already done.

God, how was Peter supposed to mope about his relationships with Flash and Gwen and even Harry when he was faced with this group? They were far too distracting, but really he wouldn't have it any other way.

…

…

_tbc_


	15. Chapter 15

Gwen's phone call about the explosion lingered in Peter's mind, but life made sure he couldn't put too much thought into it. For one thing, it came only one day before Peter and Flash sat for their final exams for the fall semester. And while none of Peter's classes were difficult for him, he put the majority of his focus on the tests rather than on theories that one of his friends was planning something nefarious just because an experiment went wrong at his company.

There was also the ongoing Thing with Flash.

Peter dutifully sat outside of the room where Flash was taking his final and stared at a bulletin board across the hall without actually seeing it. Usually they were both in class at the same time, but their finals were at odd times and didn't coincide. Sitting there gave Peter time to think where the subject matter wasn't theoretical. He wasn't at home or at Avengers Tower, away from Flash with just his thoughts and memories of Flash. Here, Flash was about twenty feet away in a room taking a test and could walk out at any moment.

Flash had seemed open to the idea of someone he knew being a superhero. He'd shown he could maybe accept it and not freak out or drop Peter like a sack of rocks if he were to reveal his identity to Flash. That was good. But before Peter did that, before he risked telling Flash his biggest secret, he had to reveal a smaller one. He had to figure out if Flash thought they were close enough, if Flash cared enough, to be more than friends.

Here and now, it was time for action. Now, when he couldn't chicken out because he had a night to sleep on it.

Lost in his thoughts, he had only about half a second of recognition before Flash's hand actually touched his shoulder, which is the only reason he didn't jump.

"All done," Flash said, looking pleased with himself. He must've done well on the test, or expected he had at least.

"You wanna get dinner tonight?" Peter asked.

Glancing at his watch, Flash frowned. "I mean, it's a little early for dinner, but," he shrugged, "sure. Your aunt's not expecting you home?"

She probably was, but Peter could call to explain he'd be out if it got too late. Peter shook his head No. "I was thinking Artichoke."

That earned him a grin. "I like the way you think, Peter."

Peter tried to smile through the anxious knot in his stomach, and Flash didn't seem to notice anything off. Which was good, in that it meant Peter had time to work up the courage to actually talk about the issue at hand. But it was also bad... because Peter had time to also talk himself out of it. That was not part of the plan.

They walked a few blocks to Macdougal Street and found, tucked between a tavern and a bar and grill, Artichoke Basille's pizza. The entire time they were walking, Peter was psyching himself up.

He knew, from that night with the kiss, that Flash liked someone. Harry thought Flash was using OsCorp funds to date a guy. Flash had admitted to wanting to date them when talking to Spider-man. And a few days later, Flash had said as much to Peter too. And Peter had told him to go for it. He'd said forget Spider-man and date the guy Flash liked.

The thing was, Flash hadn't. He and Flash were friends now, so if Flash had started dating, Peter was pretty sure he'd know about it. Besides that, he'd probably notice if Flash was trying to get away to spend time with someone else, and he wasn't. So whoever this other guy was, Flash wasn't going for them as far as Peter could tell. That meant Peter had a chance. He just had to show that he was up for it first. He had to let Flash know he was interested. He couldn't win Flash over from this other guy he didn't mind morning breath with if Flash didn't even know Peter was an option.

Once at Artichoke Basille's, Peter ordered margherita pizza while Flash went with meatball, and then Peter made sure to pay before Flash got anywhere near the counter.

"Harry's money has paid for enough of my food when I'm with you," Peter claimed with a shrug he hoped said 'calm and in control.' If Flash paid, this was a job. If Peter paid, this was... Well it wasn't a date, but it showed Peter was interested in sharing this burden, right? It showed Peter was willing to eat out with Flash even without Harry's money, when it was just them. "I've got this."

Because the shop wasn't very large and there were already a few people inside, there was nowhere to sit, so they decided to just walk back toward Washington Square Park with their food. Their breaths puffed in the air sometimes, but their jackets were plenty warm enough for the late autumn weather. Walking around or sitting outside to eat wouldn't be too bad.

"So, it's winter break now," Peter hedged. "Classes are over. What are your plans? Harry giving you any days off?"

Flash gave a shrug as he took a big bite of his pizza, then spoke around it, his eyes moving around the street casually. "Maybe, if I ask, like, now. But probably not much. So my plans are your plans, Peter. What are your plans?"

Unlike Flash, Peter waited until he was finished chewing and swallowing his food to talk. "I'll probably get more work from the Bugle. There's more going on during the holidays and all. Otherwise, um...planning my classes for next semester, hanging out with Tony. It's getting too cold for much skating," he mourned briefly. "What about after that?"

"What do you mean?" Flash asked.

Peter rolled his shoulders back and gestured with his pizza. "You know, when you're not my bodyguard anymore. You said this isn't what you wanted to do with your life. What about...after?"

"Oh." Flash took some time to eat more pizza while he thought, licking sauce off each finger. "I don't know. I like all the stuff I learned in my class, but...I think I might join the military. You know, do like Captain America and serve my country. Like Spider-man. Help people."

Do like Spider-man and help people. Peter's stomach was doing swirly, fluttery things that had nothing to do with his pizza. Or, he hoped it wasn't the pizza.

"That's really cool, Flash," Peter said. "Uh, what, uh, happened with that, by the way? With Spider-man?"

Peter knew full well what was and wasn't happening, but it was all part of the plan. All steps in the process. He needed to know what he was working with.

There was a slight blush on Flash's cheeks. "I don't know, man. I haven't seen him since...you know," he said, running a nervous hand over his short hair. He paused for a moment, his hand running over his head again like he was distracted by it. Then he cleared his throat. "I kinda think he's avoiding me."

"He's probably embarrassed," Peter said, doing his utmost best to appear nonchalant. "Or-or ashamed. He just kinda threw that at you with no warning. Or maybe he's just, you know, really busy. He is a hero, after all."

Flash shrugged. "Maybe. I'm kinda glad he's not around, though. I don't know what I'd say to him if he was." Catching Peter's curious look, Flash flushed darker. "He's been my hero for years, man, but it's like you said. I can't-I can't actually date the guy. But I don't-How do you tell a superhero No Thanks? The longer he's away, the longer I have to figure it out."

Even though it felt a bit like he was sabotaging himself, Peter couldn't help but say, "And you like someone else anyway, right?"

Flash looked at him sharply for about one second, as if surprised Peter knew. Then recognition colored his features and the tension leaked back out of his shoulders. His gaze was drawn away across the street. "Right."

That word wasn't full of the conviction Peter had been expecting. But, while confusing and against the information Peter had held going into this conversation, it was good. Less conviction meant the other guy Flash liked was less competition. They weren't dating, might be further from dating than they had been last time it was brought up. Peter totally had a shot.

Clearing his throat, Flash asked, "What about you? When you finish college, I mean," he clarified, bringing them back onto smoother ground – ground that didn't make him blush. "You gonna keep being a photographer?"

Peter let the shift happen. A shake of his head. "No. Or, I don't want to. I'd like to be a scientist. Join a team of some kind. Change the world. Make it better."

"Like with OsCorp?"

Peter sighed and ate the last of his pizza. "OsCorp is great. My dad worked there, even, but...I don't know. I feel like I wanna start somewhere else. Somewhere people don't know me as 'the kid who was working with Dr. Connors' or whatever."

Nodding, Flash said, "I get it. But with your brains, Peter, you could probably start your own company. With an important name like 'Parker Industries' or whatever."

Peter laughed. "Maybe someday. But I gotta start somewhere."

Flash checked the street before they crossed, though Peter didn't even hear a car coming their way. There were students and tourists walking around, but the streets weren't very busy at this hour. It was too late for lunch and too early for most people to be heading for dinners out. That made Flash's job easier, and made it less likely that Peter would see someone in need of help that he'd have to be super sneaky about assisting. Good. Peter couldn't get distracted.

"So, uh, Flash," he started again. Then he waited until Flash was throwing away their now empty plates before finding the courage to continue. "You, uh, you mentioned that your Thanksgiving kinda blew, right?"

A nod. Flash stretched his arms up above his head and frowned. "Yeah. I had to sit in a room with family that didn't give a shit if I had a job, let alone was thankful for it." He dropped his arms to his sides and shrugged. "Yours with your aunt sounded nice, though."

Now Peter was nodding, a lot more than Flash had. He'd had two nice Thanksgivings, actually. "Exactly. I was wondering, Flash, if you would, I mean, you don't have to but, if-if you wanted to, you could maybe spend, uh, Christmas with...with us. With the Parkers. My aunt and me."

Flash straight up stopped walking and Peter stumbled to a halt. The look on Flash's face was like Peter had just spoken in Mandarin and he wasn't sure how to tell Peter he didn't speak Chinese. Peter's words, nervous and a bit slow before, now spilled out in rapid fire.

"It'd-It wouldn't be anything too special. Just us and good food and, I mean, Tony might show up, and he might bring Steve. That happened last year. Not the Steve part, but the Tony part, and it was kinda strange but also kinda nice. But mostly it'd just be me and Aunt May cooking in the morning and then eating in the afternoon and we have tons of leftovers every year, more now that there are...um, only, only two of us. So really you'd be doing us a favor. And there's a Christmas tree and Aunt May loves watching old Christmas movies after dinner and she sings along to songs on the radio while she cooks and actually she's a pretty great singer so it's really, uh, really nice. And I just thought-"

"Peter-" Flash tried.

"-maybe it'd, you know, be nicer than...than having to sit around with your dad...all day," Peter tapered off.

Flash placed his hands on Peter's shoulders. Slowly, as if his face wasn't sure if it could even make the gesture, a smile was growing on Flash's face. "That's real nice of you, Peter. I'd-" A dusting of pink lit Flash's cheeks. "I'd like that. Yeah. If it's alright with your aunt, I'd like that."

Relief flooded through Peter like a sudden downpour. Step one, complete. Flash liked him enough to come for dinner. On Christmas. Now, step two: reveal his crush on his bodyguard and friend. All signs pointed to a good result coming.

After that, he could deal with step three: reveal superpowers.

"I'd like that too," Peter said, surprised he didn't stutter. His cheeks felt hot and Flash still had his hands on Peter's shoulders. "A-actually, um, Flash. I-I like...I mean, it's cool if you don't-Uh." He brought his hands up to touch his face briefly, accidentally dislodging Flash's hands. "The truth is, Flash, I-….I really-"

Had it been this hard to let Gwen know he liked her? What was he talking about? He didn't tell Gwen. Gwen picked up on it and made all the moves. She approached him. She invited him to dinner. She'd introduced him to her family. She admitted her feelings first – though she'd _thought_ Peter did first, that was beside the point. The only thing Peter had done first was kiss her. _The point was_ , Peter was so bad at this!

"You okay, Pete?" Flash asked when Peter let out a groan. "Is this about Christmas?" He sounded uncertain, like he thought Peter might withdraw the offer, and Peter quickly shook his head back and forth like the movement of his hair could act as a mop to clean away that doubt in Flash.

"No, no, no," Peter said. "It's not about-It's about-It's about me. I-"

His eyes landed on the T.V. in the shop over Flash's shoulder. He couldn't hear it but the words across the bottom of the screen read "Quarantine: Mysterious Illness Infects Hospital." The camera shot was half the outside of a hospital and half of a reporter speaking. In the few scant seconds Peter watched, he saw the subtitles say, "symptoms. Medical staff have also begun showing signs of the disease, including muscle weakness, hair loss, and a strange rash-"

"Parker!"

Peter jerked his attention back to Flash, who looked even more concerned now, though this time perhaps for Peter's mental state.

Cursing inwardly, at time and situations and Spider-man, Peter said, "I gotta go see Tony. Right now." He started walking down the street toward the nearest station, but a glance back showed Flash still looking bemused in the same spot. "Right now, Flash. Come on. I know, I know. I'll-I'll explain later. But this is super important. I gotta go."

Shaking his head, Flash hurried to catch up. He still looked confused and Peter wished he could go back to five minutes ago, stumbling through a confession. That news broadcast though. Gwen had told him about the OsCorp employees going to the hospital. She'd told him the symptoms they'd shown. Whatever had gone on in that lab was spreading and he had to tell the Avengers about it before it spread any further. Steps two and three would have to wait.

…

...

"According to the records we were able to pull, twelve OsCorp employees were admitted to the hospital two days ago," Natasha said. She waved her hand and the employee security pass photos of all twelve appeared to float in the air.

Tony was flipping through a tablet version of the information Natasha was telling to the rest of the Avengers. Clint was leaning casually against a counter covered in half finished gadgets, while Bruce stood nearest to Natasha with his arms crossed looking serious and attentive. Peter stood by Steve, who was next to Tony, farthest from Natasha.

The room was darkened – all lights but those making the projections were off and the windows had been made opaque with the wave of Tony's hands to block out the sun. While Peter knew the darkness was needed so that the projections would be their most vibrant, he also didn't like how serious and dire it made the situation feel.

"They all showed the same symptoms. Muscle fatigue, hair loss, an oddly colored rash that spread across all areas of their bodies, and in some cases, madness," Natasha continued. Another motion of her hand and the employee photos changed to photos of the scientists and doctors lying on examination tables for autopsies. As she'd said, they all had a strange, yellow-green rash on different parts of their bodies and were completely hairless. "Within eight hours, all twelve were dead."

"And the hospital is under quarantine because?" Bruce asked.

Tony spoke up before Natasha could. "Because apparently the disease is contagious," he said, voice strangely serious. "Every doctor or nurse or volunteer that came into contact with these guys also got sick. Jesus."

"With all the original victims coming from OsCorp, we know that's where it had to start," Steve stated. He turned to Peter. "You said Gwen said there was an explosion?"

Peter nodded. "Yeah. Right before those scientists were sent to the hospital. That's gotta be where they got it."

"You need to talk to Harry," Steve said. "You're his friend, so he'll confide in you. Figure out what happened. What's he doing to find a cure? It might not be something the Avengers have to take care of, if OsCorp can clean up its own mess."

Another nod, this one more determined. "Of course. I'm visiting him tomorrow anyway."

Bruce stepped closer to the projections. "I'd like to get my hands on any data the hospital has on this disease. Just in case OsCorp isn't cleaning up after itself, I wanna get started on finding a cure."

From the gadget table, Clint scoffed. "Soon there won't be anyone in that hospital left to cure."

"We're still going to try," Steve combated before turning to Natasha. "Nat, can you get Dr. Banner whatever information he needs?"

She gave him a look that was part insulted and part insulting him. "He'll have it in ten minutes."

There was nothing much for them to do in the meantime. Peter would confront Harry in the morning. Natasha was hacking the hospital records. Bruce, along with Tony, would start working on a cure as soon as they got the records. Steve and Clint were stuck with the worst job: waiting.

"I hate waiting," Clint grumbled before heading for the kitchen.

As the windows cleared, letting in the warm light of the sunset, Peter grabbed Tony by the arm and dragged him to a corner of the room away from the others. Tony, still holding the tablet, raised an eyebrow at him.

"What's up, youngling?" he asked when Peter finally released him. "You're being secretive."

Peter shook his head. "It's not-It's not a secret. It's just...not really related to-," he waved toward the others, "so I just...I wanted to ask you a favor."

Interest peaked, Tony turned off the tablet. It was rare for Peter to ask Tony for anything. Usually it was just Tony giving stuff because he felt like it, whether Peter wanted the stuff or not.

"When this is all over, I'm gonna tell Harry I don't need a bodyguard," Peter revealed. "I want to...to spend time with people knowing they want to be there, not that they're being paid to."

There was a sparkle in Tony's eyes. "Ah, can't date the bodyguard. I see. The situation's too complicated. You wanna be sure of his feelings," he teased.

Peter nodded resolutely. "Yes."

Tony sobered immediately. "Oh. You're serious. You really want to date him." He scratched the back of his head and glanced out the window rather than look at Peter.

Peter narrowed his eyes. "Uh, yeah? Tony, we...we talked about this. You told me you were dating Steve. You both said if I wanted to date him I had to tell him who I was."

"I know," Tony said quickly. "But I was teasing you about the dating thing. I thought you were just good friends or whatever."

Crossing his arms over his chest, Peter sighed. "You're supposed to be a genius."

For a moment, there was quiet between them. Steve was talking to Bruce in the background, and Natasha was busy on a computer across from the gadget table, but Tony and Peter were silent.

Then Tony cleared his throat. "So, what can I do for you and your maybe-could-be-boyfriend?"

Right. "I was hoping-I mean, one of the things Flash gets out of this job is free college at ESU." He shrugged. "He can get a new job somewhere doing something he likes, but when I tell Harry I don't need a guard, Flash'll lose the college. And he really seems to appreciate the opportunity."

Tony studied his god-son for a moment, his eyes running up and down his body and all over his face. He hummed. "So what you're asking is for me to pay for college for someone I barely know because my god-son likes him?"

Peter shook his head. "No. I just. I was hoping you could, maybe-A scholarship. Or something. Something to help him out, so he can keep going to ESU when I...get him fired." He winced. It sounded so bad when he said it out loud.

"What does he want to do?" Tony asked. Peter just blinked at him and Tony's lips pulled down a bit. "His area of study? What is it?"

"Oh. He-well he took a course on becoming a sports trainer this Fall," Peter said. "But he also told me he's thinking about joining the military at some point. So...I don't know."

Tony's sigh was so loud and put upon that it actually drew the attention of Steve across the room. He waved off the curious, mildly concerned look and focused back on Peter. "Tell you what. I'll give the kid an application. He answers the questions, I learn what he's about, we'll move on from there. Stark Enterprises gives out tons of scholarship money every year, usually just in the STEM degrees, but," he clapped a hand on Peter's shoulder, "we'll make it work."

It felt like Peter should've been smiling so wide it hurt his face, but instead his smile was small and heart crushingly genuine. "Thank you, Tony."

For a few moments, Tony pretended like Peter's gratitude was going to make him cry. Then he pulled Peter in a brief but strong hug. "No problem, kiddo. It's the least I can do."


	16. Chapter 16

Visiting Harry while knowing that some experiment at OsCorp had caused the quarantine of a hospital that was ongoing was strange. It felt like the day Peter had gone in to see Dr. Connors and found the whole floor empty except for Dr. Connors himself. Flash and Peter had passed plenty of people on their way to the elevator that would take them to Harry, but once Flash left him on that floor, as usual, it was almost eerily quiet.

Peter walked down the hall to the door that marked Harry's private living quarters. Not for the first time, Peter wondered if Harry actually slept here. The Osborn family had a big, historic house on Staten Island, and another fancy penthouse in the Upper East Side. But almost every single time Peter had hung out with Harry, it had been on the top floor of OsCorp, in this living space carved out of a multinational corporation.

The door to Harry's place was ajar and Peter paused with his fingers just touching the wood. "Harry?"

No response. Peter pushed the door open to no sound and walked inside slowly, his guard up. The big screen TV was off, as were all of the lights. The wall of windows, with most of the blinds down, gave just enough sunlight to see by. The waterfall installation that sectioned off the living room from the dining room had been turned off, and the entire room was entirely silent.

"Ah, Peter."

He did his best not to jump. Behind the glass that usually held the waterfall, Peter could make out a blurry shape. The tone of Harry's voice was odd, though, and Peter didn't move to join him at the dining table.

"Harry, what's going on?" he asked. "Why's it so dark in here?"

"I had the most...terrible headache," Harry said smoothly. Peter both heard and saw him stand from the table. "You know, sometimes there are moments when you realize...maybe you should have listened. Maybe you should have taken that friendly advice, even if it came from your driver or your chef."

Friendly advice? Was he talking about when Peter told him to slow down in the experiments? Oh god, Gwen was right. Not only was that explosion the cause of what was happening in the hospitals, it was the result of Harry's personal experiments for his father's illness.

"You..." Peter had to swallow past the lump growing in his throat. "You went ahead with the human experiments?"

There came the sound of Harry slamming his hand on the table, though the blurry form through the glass didn't appear to move much. When he spoke, his voice held the edge of someone who was angry or defensive but trying not to let it show. "I had no choice."

This conversation felt eerie. It was like waiting for an assassin to strike in a book, or the moment before a dramatic reveal in a movie. Peter began to move into the dining room, certain that the situation wouldn't seem so bleak if only he and Harry could stand face to face.

"My father," Harry choked. "My father was dying. I was losing him, and no one could do anything to stop it." There was so much resentment in his voice.

Passing the glass, Peter saw Harry standing at the head of the dining table where he usually sat, his hands on the glazed wood top and his head down.

"Was dying?" Peter repeated. "Does that mean he's-"

Harry shook his head. He wore a long sleeve shirt and slacks, as well as a scarf made more for fashion than functionality, and it was all pure black. In the dim light from the windows, Harry Osborn painted a very lonesome image.

Lifting his eyes to meet Peter's, Harry said, "He didn't make it. The experiment was a failure."

Norman Osborn was...dead? Peter couldn't comprehend it. Norman Osborn had been around all of Peter's life. None of the news channels had mentioned it yet, so Harry must be keeping it quiet, but...what would happen to Harry now? What would happen to OsCorp? What would happen to their friendship?

"I wish I could have listened to you, Peter," Harry whispered, though there was little regret in his tone, "but there wasn't the time."

Peter stood at the other end of the dining table and made sure to hold Harry's eyes. "What happened, Harry?" He did his best to infuse his words with the same sort of power Harry usually did, the same confidence that had people bending over backward to do what he wanted. Whether or not he succeeded, Harry answered him honestly.

"It was an utter failure," Harry told him. "The lab rooms will cost thousands of dollars to repair, the equipment thousands more to replace. The research...The only copies left are digital."

Shaking his head once, Peter prodded, "The scientists? The doctors?" If they were the ones admitted to the hospital, then Peter already knew the answer, but he had to ask.

"Dead or dying," Harry said, a note of finality in his voice. What Peter didn't detect, and what made him take a step back, was remorse. "Anyone in the room during the time of the explosion became a casualty, just like my father."

"Harry-"

"But we can make it better," Harry stated, standing up straight and fixing his scarf. "Together this time."

Peter didn't understand and it must've shown on his face. His father was dead. How could they make that better?

"You can help me make a cure, Peter," Harry explained with an effusive hand gesture toward his friend. He sounded like he was trying to win a business venture. "I'll give you anything you need, anything you could ever want."

So Harry didn't have a cure, but OsCorp _was_ trying to fix its mistakes. That was good, but- Peter shook his head. "I don't-Harry, you've got the best minds in the world working for you. And you could ask the Avengers for help. They'd be happy to help actually." Harry scoffed. "I'm not-I mean, why...Why do you need me?"

The smile on Harry's face was almost warm, but tainted by something steely. "You're my friend, Peter. You're the only person I know I can trust one hundred percent. You knew skipping a step in the process was a bad idea and you told me that. I didn't listen and that's my fault. I accept that blame. But this time, you'll head the project. This time, we'll test it until we know we have a viable cure. This time, with my resources and your brains, we can make it work."

The spider-sense wasn't going off, but Peter still felt like he was in danger. Everything about this situation screamed wrong at him.

"I-"

"As a bonus, I can guarantee Mr. Thompson's safety in case anything...goes wrong," Harry added, his voice as smooth as silk. "Your ex, Ms. Stacy, as well, if you'd like."

Goosebumps were breaking out all along Peter's skin. "Safety? Goes wrong?"

Harry placed a hand on the table again. His skin was paler than Peter was used to seeing it, and there was a slight sheen of sweat on his visible skin. It seemed to Peter that just standing was taking a lot out of Harry today.

One of the symptoms of the disease was muscle weakness. Peter narrowed his eyes, focusing, and there it was. Peaking from under Harry's scarf: a strangely colored rash. Harry was there for the test on his father. Harry was infected. Harry was-

"All experiments have risk, Peter. You know that as well as I," Harry said reasonably. Nothing in his voice betrayed the exhaustion showing in his body. "But trust me when I say that I will have everything under control this time. No unintended subjects will be exposed to the disease. No buildings will explode. Everything will go according to plan."

No unintended subjects. Peter licked his lips. "Who...who are the intended subjects?"

"The experiment has already moved into the stage of human testing. Regardless of what else must be done to create a proper cure, that much remains true."

It was said so simply, so flippantly. Peter wondered where he was getting willing subjects, where he could find so many people with his father's disease, the disease Harry now showed symptoms of, in time to cure himself. Then it hit him like a subway train. They weren't willing. Harry had guaranteed Flash and Gwen's safety. He'd been promising to leave those Peter cared about out of his experiments. Oh god, what was Harry planning? What had he already done?

Peter couldn't handle this. He had to tell...he had to tell the Avengers. He needed help. Harry either had or soon would have more human test subjects. What if the hospital itself was a test site?

At that moment, Harry practically collapsed into his chair, causing Peter to jump. The sounds of Harry's purposefully controlled breathing were loud in the otherwise silent room. Peter put his hands on the back of the nearest chair.

"You're tired, Harry," he said. "I'll-I'll come back tomorrow, okay? You need to rest. Think about what you're doing. Okay?"

"We don't have much time," Harry said. There was a warning there, but a strangely sweet one - like one he might give if Peter had told him he was going to take up motocross racing and Harry was certain it would result in Peter breaking his neck. "I need you on this, Peter." And in that statement there was desperation.

Peter nodded. "I know. I'll come back." He gripped the back of the chair hard enough to turn his knuckles white but not enough to break the wood. "I'll help you however I can, Harry. I promise."

…

…

The elevator dinged on arrival, but the doors couldn't open fast enough. Peter squeezed through when there was barely enough room and bounced on the balls of his feet as he tried to remember which direction was the OsCorp locker room. Seeing the signs, he took off jogging. He needed to go see the Avengers, but he had to make a quick detour to find Flash first.

Harry was – Harry was the source of the illness! His experiment was the cause of the quarantine. And Harry hadn't gotten out unaffected. They'd been separated by the table, but Peter could tell. One touch from him would mean infection, and the Avengers didn't have a cure yet. Worse than that, Harry sounded like this was only the beginning, like he had bigger plans for his experiments coming!

But if he touched anyone- If he touched Flash, then- then! But Flash was only in danger because he worked for Harry, because he was close to Peter. Sure Harry had guaranteed Flash's safety, but if Flash was anywhere near this there was no way he wouldn't get involved just on accident. So Flash had to get out.

"Peter?" Flash asked as the brunette dashed around a corner and almost ran into some lockers. "What's up? I thought you'd be with Harry for another hour and a half at least."

But if Peter told Flash what was going on, Flash would want to help take Harry down. Because Flash was that kind of guy. He'd insist that he get Peter somewhere safe, that he'd protect Peter along with Tony and the whole of the Avengers. He jump right into the fray even faster. But Peter wanted to do the protecting now. It was his job as a hero, wasn't it? Shouldn't he be able to at least protect Flash?

"Y-Yeah. We, uh... We finished early." He cleared his throat. "I- We need to talk, Flash."

The blonde was in a workout tank and shorts, though there was no sweat dampening his skin or clothes. Peter had caught him even before his workout. Flash took a seat on the locker room bench, straddling the wood, and motioned for Peter to sit too. So Peter did, despite his antsy nerves. How could he get Flash away from Harry without telling him the whole truth?

"You're-," Peter started before hesitating. As long as Flash was around Peter, he was at risk because Peter had to get to Harry. He wasn't exactly safe in an infected New York, but wouldn't it at least buy Peter some time if Flash was away? "You're a great bodyguard."

"Thanks." Flash frowned. "But I doubt you came rushing down here to thank me. Seriously, Peter. What's going on?"

"Nothing, I just- You see- I mean I've gone all this time without a threat to my life that wasn't my own doing. And Harry was just noting the same thing, you know? No corporate threats, no armed gunmen, no nothing. And, well, see, I've loved spending time with you – No, really, I have – but, the thing is-"

Flash stood abruptly and moved to his open locker, frown hardened on his face. He made fists with his hands, but he didn't punch anything, not even the locker. Watching him realize where Peter was going with his rant made Peter ache. He didn't want to make Flash mad, but this was the only idea he had.

"What are you trying to say, Peter?" Flash asked after a long moment. "You don't want me as your bodyguard anymore?"

"R-Right." Peter nodded, and it wasn't really a lie. He wanted to see Flash outside of work, to see if they had fun without the money, see if they still enjoyed each other's company. But this wasn't about that.

The locker slammed shut. "Why?" Flash spun back around to face him. "Did I do something wrong? I thought we were good. I thought, after everything we've talked about and done, that you were okay with us. I thought we were friends!"

Friends. Peter frowned. Just like that, he saw his future with Flash. One more romantic love he'd have to swallow and pretend it didn't burn. He licked his lips and shook his head. "That's- We are. Friends, that is. But... You need to quit. Put in your resignation. We can stay friends. We can still see each other around. But, Flash, you need to stop working for OsCorp. You need to resign."

"Resign? Did Harry decide this?" Flash sounded betrayed, and Peter's chest clenched. "I don't know what brought it all up, but I'll go talk to him. We can work this out."

Panic rose in Peter as Flash took a step toward the exit. "No!" He shouted, standing and grabbing Flash's arm. No, he couldn't go see Harry. Not when the C.E.O. was turning into New York's very own Lex Luthor.

"Why not?" Flash tried to wrench free of Peter's grip, but Peter was stronger. "What's wrong, Peter? You're acting weird. Just tell me!"

"You can't see Harry. Because-" He bit his lip, trying to think of an excuse. "Harry's not well. He's sick. I don't want you to catch it."

Now Flash looked grim. He stilled under Peter's grip and frowned as if Peter had suggested someone was out to kill his mother. "Sick? Like those OsCorp workers? Like the people in the hospital?"

"Yes. We can't touch him. I could barely talk to him." Peter grabbed onto the story with both hands and prayed Flash would stay away. "It would be best for everyone if you resigned and-"

"What is up with you and me resigning?" Flash tugged his arm free from Peter and grunted angrily. "Harry's sick. So what? That doesn't mean I gotta quit, Peter. It means he needs his friends on his side, not running away."

Friends. That was it! Flash said they were friends. Well hadn't he? Peter had come close to crossing that boundary between them too many times, but something had always stopped him from going too far. Flash liked someone else, Flash was distracted by Spider-man, heroic duties took precedent, but there was no stopping Peter now. It was finally time for step two.

If he confessed now, Flash would have to reject him because he liked someone else. Then working with Peter would be too awkward. Well wouldn't it? He'd have to quit, or at least take a leave of absence. And rejection... it would hurt Peter. There was no doubt about it. But wasn't it worth it if it meant the person he loved got to survive?

"Flash. You have to quit. Because I can't do this anymore," he said, trying his best to sound and look serious. "Being around you and pretending all the time – it's too stressful. I can't keep it secret anymore."

It wasn't his Spider-man secret, although he'd planned on giving that one away too someday soon. It wasn't the secret of what really gave Peter all those bruises. But it was still a huge secret, and Flash looked just as unprepared for it as he would be for the others.

Despite the look on his face, Flash was brilliant to Peter. He'd changed so much since high school. He'd become someone worth fighting for, worth the world. He was selfless and strong and tried sticking up for the little guy. And wasn't that the definition of a hero? Weren't those reasons why Peter loved him? And even now, hurt and confused, Flash looked like a hero to Peter. He'd saved Peter from misery and loneliness, and he'd put Peter's heart back together.

When the silence stretched too long, Flash started to ask, once more, what was wrong, but Peter shook his head to cut off the question. Then he grabbed Flash by the shoulders, leaned in, and pressed their lips together. It was the second kiss he'd stolen. It would be the last.

He pulled back and sucked in a sharp breath. Flash's lips parted, his whole body loosening up in shock. "Pete-," he began, but Peter spoke right over him.

"I couldn't lie about it anymore. And I know this makes things super awkward, and I wouldn't force you to be around someone you didn't like who liked you, cause that would be weird, so look. I'll understand when you don't show up tomorrow morning, okay? I won't expect it. Just- Just stay safe and- and we'll call it even, okay?" He shook his head roughly. "I'm sorry."

Then he turned and left the gym without waiting to see Flash's rejection. The elevator was opening as he got to it, but several other people were waiting to step on, so he opted for the stairs instead. Using his webbing, he scaled the floors in record time and was in the main lobby before the elevator arrived. As he headed for the door, he happened to glance up and spot Harry leaning on a rail above him. But why? Had he followed Peter out? Why wasn't he resting?

They locked eyes, and Peter saw his friend smirk. Just like that, Peter knew he was losing two people close to him today. One to blind desperation. One to a difference of heart. Frowning, Peter turned on his heel, the waxed floor squeaking under his sneaker, and left the building in a brisk walk.

He had to tell the Avengers. Peter couldn't do this on his own - he didn't even know where to start - but he had a team now, and they could help. They had to stop Harry. They had to stop him now.

As long as he focused on the problem at hand, he could ignore the way his chest felt crushed all over again... only this time it was by his own hand, and that made it all the more painful.

Speaking of his heart, he pulled out his phone and brought up his recent calls list. After only a moment of hesitation, he clicked on Gwen Stacy's name.

…

…

_tbc_


	17. Chapter 17

The elevator moved too slowly, but Peter resisted the urge to shout at Jarvis to go faster. He could have scaled the building, but the time to turn into Spiderman and hide his clothes just seemed too much. His cellphone was hot in his grip, held too tightly for too long. When the doors opened, he bolted out-

-right into someone's chest.

"Whoa, slow down a beat, Pete," Clint said, grabbing the younger man's shoulders. "Where's the emergency?"

"At Oscorp." Peter stepped out of his grip and looked around for the others. "We need to call a meeting."

"Everyone's already waiting for you in the den, as requested." The archer raised a curious brow that turned into two surprised brows when Peter bolted for the other room. "Wait. Is there a real, actual emergency at Oscorp? Like seriously? Like right now?"

The den was crowded but surprisingly quiet. Tony and Nat were discussing something but it couldn't have been important because they were both smiling and Tony wasn't shouting. When Peter slid into the room, all eyes turned to take in his anxious state, and the smile dropped from Tony's lips.

"What's wrong, Peter?" he asked, deadly serious.

"We got your message," Steve interrupted. "But I don't understand. What's going on at Oscorp now?"

The message had mostly been a call to get as many Avengers together as possible. To Peter's relief, he saw they were all present, even Thor, who had yet to return to his home world. Dr. Banner was leaning on the far wall, looking interested and yet reserved, as he usually did. Peter waited until Clint had shuffled his way into the group meeting before he started – but it was hard to hold it in.

"The explosion at OsCorp – Harry was behind it." He ran his hand through his hair and frowned hard. "When I saw him today, he told me everything had gone wrong, and all the scientists had been infected. From what I could tell, he was infected too."

Tony was up and moving toward Peter, but Steve grabbed his arm to hold him back. They exchanged a look and then Steve nodded, dropping the arm. Tony didn't move toward Peter anymore. Instead, he held up his hands in a small defensive gesture.

"You- I mean, you didn't touch him, right? Did he infect you?" Tony asked. To his back left, Clint sort of flinched.

"What? I mean no. No, I didn't get within ten feet of him," Peter assured. He looked over at Clint. "I'm not infected." And the archer visibly relaxed.

Tony did too. He took the few steps between them in half as many as normally required and pulled Peter into a quick hug. "That's good news," he said when he pulled back. "Really good news. Best news I've heard all day."

"Yeah, but that's not the point." Peter clenched his fists, the tension of the day getting the best of him. "The point is I-… Harry's not done yet. He's planning another experiment, because he's desperate for a cure. And the way he was talking – he already has some people in mind to be test subjects. And I had to- I called Gwen to tell her to get out of the building. I told her what was going on and-"

"She didn't get out," Natasha finished coolly. "She went further in."

"Exactly! And knowing her, she's going to walk right into the center of Harry's plans and get herself in trouble. And I need you guys – uh, and girl – to help me get her out," Peter explained. "Before Harry infects her or worse!"

There was a slight change in the air as Jarvis's voice drifted into the conversation. _"A Miss Stacy is here to see you, Sir. Given that you're all out of costume, should I release her from the elevator?"_

Peter stilled, tension cut off abruptly in his nerves. Gwen was… in the elevator? But she'd hung up on him and gone to get information on the experiment! She was… in the elevator?

Tony looked around at each of the Avengers for clearance. Bruce shrugged noncommittally while Hawkeye excused himself from the room. He motioned to Natasha who nodded her agreement and also left, but not before patting Peter assuredly on the shoulder.

"I have no secrets to hide from Ms. Stacy," Thor said. "Let her come."

"You heard him, Jarvis. Let her out." Tony backed up to stand by Steve as he spoke, and when Gwen hurried into the room, she was met with all but two of the Avengers. An honor, really.

They heard her coming from the tap of her heels. She didn't look anxious, like Peter had. In fact she looked proud, maybe a little excited. With barely a glance at Peter, she made her way over to Tony and held out her hand, palm up, to him. In her palm was a usb.

"That's all the information OsCorp had on the experiment," she said. When Peter made a sound of surprise, she turned to him. "Don't worry. I used a coworker's login information. He has a higher clearance than me, so I was able to get everything, and they'll never know it was me."

"Unless they look at the cameras," Steve corrected while Tony gingerly took the drive from her. "Is it safe for you to go back home?"

"Not at all," Peter answered for her. "Gwen, didn't you hear me? Harry is desperate. If he finds out what you did- If he finds out that you know-"

"What? Exactly what I tried to tell you he did several days ago?" she asked, a sarcastic tone in her voice. "If he finds out I know that, then I'm, I don't know, doomed? If he didn't know before, then he won't know now. Besides, I'm not planning on leaving the Tower."

Now it was the rest of the team that perked up and looked surprised. Gwen looked at each of them with some degree of expectation, and when she found no one stepping up to her defense, she sighed.

"Oh come on. You're working on a cure, aren't you? I'm a scientist too. And I've spent most of my time at work since the explosion monitoring the systems in the building for any abnormalities and trying to gather intel. I can help." She put her hands on her hips. "And if the rest of the team doesn't want me finding out their identities, they can just stay out of the lab."

Thor chuckled, his voice deep and resounding. "I like this one," he said. "She would make a fine addition to the team."

Now Peter frowned. "No, no way. I had to fight villains and save the city a couple dozen times for you to even consider me. She can't get in just because she's tenacious."

Gwen laughed softly and finally smiled at him. "Well at least you didn't try to tell me it's too dangerous. That would definitely have been the pot calling the kettle black."

It was obvious Thor didn't understand the colloquialism, but that wasn't important. Tony took Gwen's hand and shook it to regain her attention.

"Nice work. Reckless, but nice. I hope you're just as _tenacious_ in the lab," he said, stressing Peter's word choice. "We should get started, just in case Mr. Osborn's plans come to fruition."

Bruce pushed off the wall and headed for the elevator just as Tony spun Gwen around to lead her in the same direction. The labs were two floors up. Peter watched them go, unable to dispel the rest of his tension. Gwen was safe, but had Flash gotten out? Had Harry settled on who his next targets were? Was there nothing Peter could do? He was a scientist too, but not like this, and they already had three great minds working on it.

There had to be something he could do to help.

"Peter," Steve called out and caught his attention. Thor had left the room, leaving just the Captain and himself to fill the space. "I know you're nervous. But trust them. There is more genius in those labs than my entire generation could have dreamed of."

"I know," Peter said, gruff. "But…"

"Something else bothering you?" The captain finally moved from where he'd been sitting on the arm of the couch, and stepped closer to Peter.

At first, Peter shook his head, but then he sighed and nodded. "I know this is a stupid thing to worry about, but even if we succeed in stopping Harry, in saving the city again… I… I've lost Flash. I didn't- I didn't know how else to make him leave OsCorp. He wasn't buying any of my excuses, so I just- I broke it off with him. He won't want to be around me anymore, so… He's safe, and I-"

Strong arms pulled him into a strong chest, and Peter could barely let himself revel in the feeling of being hugged by Captain America. "Everything will work out," he said. "I'm sorry about Flash, but you'll get through it."

He was right, of course. Peter would move on, just as he had from Gwen. But unlike Gwen, Peter couldn't just text Flash when he felt like it or give him a ring if he needed help or advice. Gwen and Peter were still friends. Flash would now be little more than a stranger. And that was worse. But still Peter knew he would eventually move on.

For now he didn't want to. He wanted to cling to whatever memories he had of his time with Flash, and he wanted to make the city safe for him. And he couldn't do that here.

"Peter," Steve continued when they parted, "Trust in the team. I know you're frustrated and anxious, but we have a system. Don't do anything reckless, okay? Go home. Try to sleep. Go to school. We'll call you when we have a plan. Okay?"

"Okay," Peter agreed.

Steve showed no signs of recognizing the lie. That was good, but it would still suck when Steve gave him the disappointed look later. Disappointing the captain was never fun… but there was absolutely no way Peter could just go home and go to sleep – not when he could do something. Not when he could try and figure out who Harry's targets were.

…

…

OsCorp was a behemoth of a building. Its glass front wall rose up, above most other buildings in the city, to reflect New York back upon herself. Within its walls, the future of mankind was engineered – usually for the better. Right now, something nefarious was happening inside instead.

Peter had snuck in to see Dr. Connors' before, and had walked in like he was supposed to be there to see Gwen a lot. He'd never entered the building at night before, though. Tonight he entered through a side door, backpack in tow. If he walked by the front desk, they would probably recognize him and alert Harry. And Peter's goal tonight wasn't to engage Harry.

No, he wanted to find and neutralize whatever drugs or chemicals Harry's scientists had cooked up in that lab. Gwen had brought them the data on the experiment, and now Peter was pretty confident he could kill the illness before it was unleashed on unsuspecting people. Less people to cure meant less work for the Avengers.

Peter took the backpack off his shoulder and unzipped the biggest pocket. After pulling the Iron Spider helmet from inside, he secured it to his head just long enough to bring up a copy of OsCorp's blueprints. The lab Harry was using wasn't upstairs by the penthouse. No, he'd taken Peter down a special medical service elevator to get there. And Gwen said the explosion happened on an upper floor, so the lab was somewhere between Gwen's floor and Harry's. Peter cursed himself for not paying attention to what floor that stupid elevator had stopped on when Harry showed him the lab before.

The blueprints showed Peter where that service elevator was – one of the only places inside the building without clear walls somewhere in it. Peter then used the map to locate the closest computer system. Once he had that, he powered the helmet down and stuffed it back into his bag in its compressed form. Then he started to walk.

Down the hall where the side door sat, around a corner, and suddenly there were people around. OsCorp never slept, just like progress never slept, just like New York never slept. Just like crime. Peter averted his gaze to a wall mural of past OsCorp accomplishments just as he passed a man wearing a suit with heavy bags under his eyes.

They bumped shoulders and the file in the man's hands flipped in the air, releasing papers everywhere. Peter gasped at the same time as the older man overcame his own shock and began to glare.

"I'm so sorry," Peter gushed, already bending down to collect the papers. "I'm seriously-I'm so-so sorry. Let me just-"

The man frowned but didn't seem very angry anymore. "Be careful," he warned testily. "That experiment is going to change the world. You'd better not damage anything." And then he was kneeling down to help Peter pick up the papers and put them in the proper order.

"I won't. I promise. I'm sorry. Again, I'm so sorry," Peter babbled nervously. "I really need to watch where I'm going more."

They leaned close to each other over the file folder, each flipping through the pages to find the right numbers so they'd be in order. A last sheet was under Peter's shoe and caused him to slip. He caught himself before he would've crashed into the man and caused the papers to scatter again, but it required using the man's shoulder for a slight bit of balance. Once stable again, Peter reached down for the sheet under his shoe and gave a sheepish smile as he handed it to the man.

"Thank you," the man said, though he didn't sound grateful at all. He sounded like someone beginning to wonder if Peter was too much trouble to deal with. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have work to do so I can actually go home and see my own kids rather than someone else's." And he cast his gaze up and down Peter's layered, rumpled clothing and backpack with a bitter frown.

Peter accepted the role of 'someone else's son' with aplomb and smiled again. "You're kids are really lucky, you know?" he said. While the guy was still unsure how to respond to the compliment, Peter jumped to his feet. "Have a nice night and I'm really really sorry I bumped into you."

They continued on in opposite directions. When Peter had left the area behind – and anyone who had been watching the incident – he pulled his left hand from his jacket pocket and looked at the identification card he'd swiped.

Michael Hattersmith.

"Thank you, Mike," Peter muttered to himself before making a beeline to the computer station he'd seen on the blueprints.

The computer came alive at a touch. Peter swiped the ID card and it logged Michael into the system without Peter needing to know his password. Peter was no hacker, but his spider skills made him a pretty good pickpocket.

He had to work fast, before Michael realized his ID was gone. Quickly bringing up the search function, Peter ran a search for any internal files related to an explosion or maintenance requests. It wasn't a long search. The explosion happened recently and the company would've had to give some kind of story to the employees and cops and whoever else started poking around.

And there it was: explosion on floor ninety-eight due to a small gas leak. Peter didn't bother to read more of the file than was absolutely necessary to know that this was the right place. Then he logged out of Michael's account and walked swiftly but casually away from the computer. About halfway between there and the service elevator, he made sure to drop Michael's ID badge.

There was no one walking in the corridor around the service elevator, but there was a security camera. Peter made sure it didn't see him by sliding along the same wall it was positioned on. When he was directly underneath it, he aimed up and shot a ball of webbing at the lens. Then he scurried across the hallway to the elevator doors. Peter didn't press the button to call the elevator. Instead, he dug his fingers into the small gap between the doors and pried them open just far enough for him to slip through. They automatically slid closed again once he let go on the other side.

It took some balancing to not immediately go plummeting to his death, since the elevator shaft did not end on the ground floor. It went down so far that Peter could barely see the little light in the pit at the bottom. For the briefest moment, Peter wondered what was going on below the OsCorp building. Then he shook his head and focused his attention up.

One thing at a time, Parker.

At first, Peter used his webbing to fling himself past dozens of floors at a time. When he got close to floor ninety-eight, he began to simply wall crawl his way up so he wouldn't pass it. At floor ninety-seven, Peter looked up and saw the elevator car just above him in the dark. He quickly pulled open the elevator doors in front of him, one floor too soon, and escaped, before one of several dozen horror movies decided to come to life and send the elevator car crashing down into him.

Luckily for Peter, there was no one in the corridor on the other side, and the camera was pointed down the hall rather than at the elevator doors. After webbing the camera, Peter darted down the hall, past closed lab doors and open office space that had been cleared out for the night, to the stairwell. Then it was only a matter of seconds before he was upstairs to floor ninety-eight.

The plan was to find the side entrance to the lab room that the service elevator opened into. Then Peter could look for a list of possible victims in Harry's mad plan. He had no chance of hacking into Harry's files on his computer, but he could look for clues in the lab and the offices around it.

If he couldn't find a list of names or an experiment location, then maybe Peter could kill the disease and remove the threat entirely. Then all that would be left was the cure made by the Avengers – and Gwen – to heal anyone left that was infected.

The explosion hadn't killed the disease, so heat probably wasn't Peter's best plan. He'd have to poison it, sterilize it. So, on the way toward the lab, Peter checked each room for any cleaning supplies. He was hoping for bleach. He could douse the whole lab in bleach and kill everything alive in the room.

He found two small containers of bleach in a storage closet alongside a single, pristine looking mop and some wet wipes, as well as a bunch of bottles labeled with names Peter didn't recognize. Grabbing the bleach, Peter hurried toward the lab room.

On his way to find the elevator, which he knew was near the lab he needed, Peter passed a door with a window in it and had to practically throw himself to the other side to get out of the way quick when he noticed there was someone inside. He waited several tense seconds, his heart beating wildly in his chest, but the door didn't open. Whoever was inside must not have seen him.

Taking a deep breath, Peter inched his face over to the window to peek inside, just to check. His eyes widened.

There sat Harry Osborn, his chest bare to the world. It was coated in that strange rash, splotched sporadically from his neck to his chest, down his stomach, and disappearing below the waistband of his pants. As Peter watched, Harry lifted a syringe with a badly shaking hand and injected a clear liquid into a vein on his arm. The young billionaire's face scrunched up as if in pain the whole time the liquid was entering his system, and his body was shaking so much that Peter worried he'd break the needle off in his arm. Then the needle retracted from Harry's skin and the syringe was replaced into a kit on the table beside Harry.

Harry ran his hands, no longer shaking, through his hair with a sigh so deep that Peter could almost hear it through the door. When he pulled his hands back, tufts of hair went with them. Peter could just see how rage overtook Harry's features, and then Harry began to throw anything and everything within reach. This time, Peter could definitely hear the screaming.

He backed away from the door, turned, and scurried to a lab room door down the hall. It wasn't the lab he was looking for, but he saw incubators and fridges inside, so there might be some disease specimens inside. The door was, as should've been expected, locked. Frowning, Peter tried using the same combination as that which had let him into the room with the spiders on his first visit to OsCorp.

The door gave a quiet beep of confirmation and popped open with only a near silent rush of cool air from inside.

_What are the odds?,_ Peter thought. Maybe all of OsCorp's super secret experiments used the same code? That didn't seem smart.

Peter's spider sense blared in his head a moment before there was a shadow over Peter. Something collided with the back of Peter's head and the world went dark.

…

...

Ever since waking up that morning, Flash had felt a tingle in his chest.

He'd dreamed something crazy about him and Peter as flying superheroes fighting a supervillain that controlled giant robots, but then that switched without warning into them both as soldiers – though Peter's military fatigues looked more blue and red than shades of green and made him stick out like a sore thumb that none of the enemy soldiers seemed able to see, and in the middle of Flash reloading his gun, Peter had dropped to his knees and asked him for his hand in marriage, and suddenly they were in the gym at Midtown High and all Flash could think was that the backboard should be broken but it wasn't. Then he woke up.

Flash blamed it on Peter asking him over for Christmas dinner one day, then confessing and breaking up with him in the same breath the next.

Still, Flash felt a bit like bouncing as he made his way up to the Parker family home. Peter was acting weird yesterday, sure, but he'd apparently been trying to confess to a crush on Flash. In light of that, Peter wanting Flash to quit was probably because he didn't want to date a bodyguard, but a friend. Or he thought Flash didn't return his feelings and would quit no matter what after he'd confessed.

Well, news flash to Peter Parker, but that was probably the best news Eugene Thompson had heard in weeks. Peter liked Flash? Peter wanted to date Flash? Flash had hurried after Peter out of the gym, but hadn't seen him among the people getting on the elevator or around the halls. That was okay though, because Flash could still pick Peter up for class today. He would have plenty of time to tell Peter he felt the same on the way to ESU.

Flash knocked on the front door and waited, resisting the urge to hum. When the door opened, it was Aunt May on the other side of the screen and not Peter. Flash smiled.

"Good morning, Mrs. Parker. Is Peter ready to go yet?"

Aunt May's lips pulled down into a deep, worried frown at Flash's question. She seemed to pale before his eyes. "Oh dear. I'd hoped-" She cut herself off and clasped her hands to her chest as she shut her eyes, as if she were praying.

All of the giddy feelings in Flash's chest evaporated, replaced by worry. He pulled the screen door open so that he was face to face with May Parker. "What's wrong? Is Peter okay?" he asked in a quiet, serious tone.

Aunt May looked up at him. "He's not here," she said quietly. "I've looked everywhere, but he isn't here. I waited up as long as I could but he never came home last night, and he wasn't here this morning either." Flash's face went slack and it felt like his blood had turned cold in his veins. "I'd hoped he was with you. Anthony always calls when Peter stays with him, so...You haven't seen him?"

Slowly, Flash shook his head. His grip on the screen door was so tight his knuckles were turning white. Aunt May seemed to curl in on herself in front of his eyes.

"I prayed this day would never come," she whispered, as if she'd forgotten Flash was there. "I knew it was dangerous. I knew he was-but he'd always come home. No matter what, he's always come home to me."

Flash could tell by her tone that she was about to burst into tears. As much as he'd heard about and interacted with May Parker, Flash knew she was a strong willed woman and that it took a lot to rattle her. Watching a tear escape her eye and roll down her wrinkling face almost broke Flash's heart. He took the half step to close the space between them and wrapped her in his arms. It was a bit awkward – Flash wasn't good at comforting people – but he hoped it helped.

"Don't worry, Mrs. Parker," he said. "I'll find him, and I'll bring him home to you. I promise."

Aunt May let him hold her for approximately half a minute before she gently pushed him away. She gave him a sad yet fond smile. "Thank you, Flash. Peter's lucky to have you."

Flash gave the best grin he could. "I'm lucky to have him," he corrected. Then he said his goodbyes and headed back out to find Peter.

By the time he reached the road, Flash had his phone to his ear and it was ringing out. As usual, it took barely one ring to be answered.

"Mr. Thompson," Harry greeted, sounding bored. He always sounded a bit like Flash wasn't worth his time.

"Mr. Osborne," Flash said. "I'm calling to let you know that I arrived to pick up Peter this morning and his aunt says he's missing. I'm heading out to look for him now."

Harry made a mildly disgruntled sound. "I'm sure Peter's fine," he said, and Peter's name came out like a curse word.

That, as much as Harry's actual statement, made Flash falter. What was going on? Harry had hired him because Harry and Peter were friends, but now Harry sounded like Peter was a disease. Disease? That's right, Harry had that weird disease. Wasn't one of the symptoms madness? Maybe Harry was going crazy?

"Mr. Osborne, with all due respect," Flash began.

"Mr. Thompson, with all due respect," Harry said mockingly. "Your services are no longer required."

Flash stopped walking. "What?"

"You're fired," Harry snapped, and then the call ended.

He must be going mad. The whole day was going mad! Peter missing and Harry not caring and May Parker about to break down and Flash left as the only settled person involved? What twilight zone had Flash woken up in? After yesterday, he'd expected today to be wonderful, not nuts!

Who else could Flash call to help him find Peter? 'Anthony always calls...,' Aunt May had said.

"His godfather!" Flash half-shouted, pulling up the number Tony had programmed in on Flash's first visit to the Tower. He'd been warned it was only for emergencies, and threatened with secret ninja assassin's if he called otherwise. This, Flash was certain, counted as an emergency.

"We talked about this, Eugene," Tony answered.

"Mr. Stark," Flash rushed to say. "I went to pick Peter up from his house this morning and his aunt says he never came home last night. Peter's missing."

There was silence on the other end of the line for about five seconds before Tony exploded with "What?!" followed by a series of expletives that had Flash pulling the phone away from his ear for several long moments. "Listen to me, Flash," he began at length. "Listen to me carefully, I swear to God, you'd better listen."

"I'm listening," Flash said.

"Peter's done something monumentally stupid," Tony said. "This coming from the king of bad decisions, okay? The Avengers are already working on it. We're supposed to work as a _team_ , that's why this stupid boy band was formed in the first place, god dammit. But the point is, Peter disobeyed direct orders and stormed the enemy camp. So now, we've got to make some hard decisions, but it'll be handled, okay? Understand?"

Flash very much did not understand. "Are you saying Peter got involved in an Avengers mission and got captured by someone?"

"For simplicity's sake, yes. But you missed the point," Tony snapped, still angry. "Leave this to us, boy wonder. We don't need to be worrying about more civilians getting in the way than we have to. We'll handle the cure, save Peter, and stop whatever evil plans are going on. Not you. Got it?!"

The cure. A cure meant a disease. Harry Osborne had a disease that had been cooked up in an OsCorp lab that had sent a dozen people to a hospital that was now quarantined because everyone was getting infected and dying. The Avengers were making a cure. Peter had gotten involved and...stormed the enemy camp?

Peter was at OsCorp.

"Understood, sir," Flash said and then promptly hung up.

Like hell Flash was gonna just sit around and wait to hear if Peter was okay. Harry had obviously lost his mind to this disease. He wasn't concerned about Peter, and actually seemed angry at Peter, probably because he'd caught Peter sneaking around and messing with his shit. 'Evil plans' or whatever Tony had said. Well, Flash could take the 'hard decision' out of the Avengers' hands. They could work on the cure to this disease, and Flash would go save Peter. That's what a bodyguard did, isn't it? Saved their charge when they got into trouble?

With that plan in mind, Flash hurried off to hail a taxi.


	18. Chapter 18

OsCorp was a behemoth of a building. Its glass front wall rose up, above most other buildings in the city, to reflect New York back upon herself. Within its walls, the future of mankind was engineered – usually for the better. Right now, something nefarious was happening inside instead.

Flash had never snuck into a building before. He hadn't even accompanied his fellow basketball buds back in high school when they broke into the school at night as part of a senior prank. But today he snuck into OsCorp, one of the biggest, most well known, multinational corporations on the planet.

Heaven help him.

Flash entered through a side door, slipping in unnoticed by the camera placed outside by sheer luck. He'd chosen the side entrance because he wanted to stay unnoticed. If he walked by the front desk, they would probably recognize him and alert Harry. Harry had just fired Flash an hour ago. Harry had probably lost his mind to the disease released in that lab. No, Flash very much did not want to deal with Harry Osborn right now.

Once inside, Flash walked around the curved corridor into a more open, busier area of the building. He'd stopped marveling at the size of OsCorp after his third visit here, but now he remembered that fact in grand detail.

He knew Peter was somewhere in the building, but with a building this large…where would that be?

"The lab," Flash murmured.

If Peter had come about the disease, he would've looked for the lab where it all started. But Flash had no idea where that was. There were labs on every floor of OsCorp! He'd have to go floor by floor looking for any signs of recent explosions or construction or heavier security or something.

Looking up into the seemingly endless space toward OsCorp's roof, Flash swallowed hard. There were one hundred and eight floors. This could take forever. But what other choice did Flash have?

Squaring his shoulders and doing his best to act like he belonged there, Flash started walking.

...

...

The first thing that let Peter know he was awake was the soft light beyond his eyelids stabbing straight into his brain. The second thing was the pain that accompanied that light. His head ached terribly and Peter wished for the darkness of sleep once more. He could call...call...um...who...Flash! He could call Flash and say plans were cancelled for the day. What were the plans for the day? Peter felt like he'd gone patrolling in the rain in temperatures just too high for snow, and then been hit by a bus for good measure.

With effort, because something was telling Peter this headache wasn't natural, Peter opened his eyes. The added light made him wince and he had to try a few times before he could keep them open for more than a half second, before he could focus on the room around him.

Oh. He was...standing? How was he standing up while asleep? Peter's brain was foggy, slow. He tried to move his hand to his face but nothing happened. Turning his head cautiously, nausea flooding through him with even the simplest of movements, Peter looked at his right hand.

It was strapped down. Both of his arms were strapped down. There was another strap around his waist, his shoulders, just above his knees, his ankles. His feet were on a short lip at the bottom of whatever he was secured against. The set up was familiar and Peter struggled to remember why.

"I see you're awake."

Harry's voice was as sharp as a blade and recognition flooded Peter all at once. The lab room. He was on the table in the lab where Harry's father had died, where the explosion had happened. It was made to keep a person upright even if they couldn't hold themselves up.

Luckily for Peter's stomach, Harry walked into Peter's view so he didn't need to turn his head to see his friend. The rolling, queasy feeling there had been was added to with anxiety as memories of the night before returned to Peter.

OsCorp. Harry and the vial, his rash and hair. The shadow behind him.

Peter had no idea how long he'd been unconscious, but Harry looked almost normal now. There was no sign that he was losing his hair, and Peter briefly wondered if he wore a wig or had simply combed his hair just right to hide the loss. His rash was once more covered by his clothes. The only signs of his illness were his increasingly pale skin and the dark shadows under his eyes.

"Harry-" Peter croaked.

"How dare you," Harry cut him off. He was glaring at Peter with so much anger that Peter couldn't speak.

The anger might have been because Peter was sneaking around inside OsCorp. Or maybe because Harry knew what Peter had planned to do in the lab last night – was it last night? An hour ago? Ten minutes? - with the bleach. But Peter saw that Harry was not staring at Peter's face. No, he was staring at Peter's chest. Lowering his own gaze, Peter saw how the buttons at the top of his shirt were open and a hint of the Iron Spider uniform could be seen.

Harry held up a familiar artifact: the Iron Spider helmet. On a table behind him sat Peter's backpack, every zipper open. He waited until Peter had focused back on him before nodding, his lips a grim line. "I had hoped I was wrong. But I'm not, am I, Spider-man?"

"Harry, I'm sorry," Peter began, a little desperately. "I should've told you."

The helmet flew across the room to crash onto the table, only the wall keeping it from going farther. Harry rushed up to Peter, grabbed the collar of his shirt with both hands, and tore it open from neck to naval. The Iron Spider uniform was now clearly visible, the golden spider symbol prominent across Peter's chest.

"We could've done so much together," Harry said, his tone sad – a vast contrast to his angry actions. "Parker and Osborne. We could've changed the world."

Turning away, Harry walked out of Peter's view. He was shifting things around and Peter took the time to try and pull out of the restraints. He had to focus to make him limbs do what he wanted – probably a result of the blow to his head that made him lose consciousness. And then, suddenly, Harry was back at his side, a pair of medical scissors in his hand. The look in his eyes frightened Peter, but all he did was start to cut up Peter's shirt and jacket sleeves so he could pull them away to show the Iron Spider suit below.

"I had great plans for us," Harry said, almost conversationally, as he worked, first on one sleeve and then the other, until Peter's upper body was clear of everything but the suit. "First, we'd cure my father's disease. Then we'd work together to make OsCorp the greatest company in the world. We'd make the world stronger, smarter, faster. So many people, so many small minded people, want to create super soldiers, or super heroes. The Avengers, the governments of the world. We could've put them all the shame. We could've stopped diseases. Lengthened lives. Saved the world."

Harry then removed the web shooter section of Peter's suit on his right arm to reveal Peter's bare skin. Peter barely had time to register that Harry had dropped the suit piece before a needle pricked his skin. He jerked, but the restraints kept his arm from moving much at all.

"Wait, Harry, what-"

"Spider-man," Harry spat, making sure the needle was deep into Peter's arm. It was connected to an IV line, with a bag of clear fluid in it. "I've seen you catch cars. I saw the footage of you fighting Dr. Connors, before the cameras were destroyed. Can't have New York's Friendly Neighborhood Menace stopping even more of my plans than he already has." And he tapped the fluid bag gently.

The world was already become fuzzy at the edges, though whatever was now entering his system wasn't enough to knock him out immediately. His limbs felt unbearably heavy, and his chin dropped to his chest. "Harry...please..."

With Peter now sedated, Harry began cutting off his jeans as well. Peter watched him through what felt like a heavy blanket.

"This lab is contaminated, you know," Harry said. "Just by walking inside, you've contracted the disease. I was here when it happened. I should've died when the other scientists did. But we had backup formulas for cures prepped and waiting in case the main test proved ineffective. They've elongated my life, Spider-man, kept the symptoms contained, though not gone. It's not much, but it'll be enough to find a final cure."

He tossed the shreds of Peter's clothes into a pile against the wall, not caring how or where they landed. Standing back, his eyes raked up and down Peter's body, over the suit, and the rage returned to his eyes. But when he lifted his gaze to Peter's head, the rage disappeared and was replaced by something like regret. He stepped closer and touched Peter's face softly with his right hand, lifting Peter's head up so they could look at each other in the eyes.

"I'm so sorry, Peter," he whispered, so close that Peter could feel his breath. "You were the best friend I ever had. I'll miss you. The disease will take you in a matter of hours. If my tests don't find a cure, I'll join you soon. And we'll be friends again."

There was a moment where, in the silence of the lab, Peter and Harry simply looked at one another. Peter had no idea what Harry saw in his eyes, but in Harry's Peter saw sadness. He believed he'd already lost Peter, to the disease, no, to Spider-man. Peter also saw that Harry did not regret his actions up until this point, nor anything he planned to do in the future. He was sad that he had to kill Peter, but he was determined as well. He was taking this moment to say goodbye, and then he would move on and continue his work.

Then Harry released Peter's face and his head fell back down to his chest. Harry fiddled with the IV for a moment, then said, "You won't feel a thing. I can promise you that, Peter. You'll feel no pain."

The world turned strange. Peter couldn't tell what direction Harry's voice was coming from, where the doors were, if the lights were on or off. He couldn't clench his fists. Even keeping his eyes open was difficult. As Harry's footsteps clicked across the floor toward the viewing room, and beyond it, the elevator or the side door, Peter felt panic in his chest, though he could barely react to it.

"W-wait," he slurred. "W...hat...are you...gonna do?"

The clicking stopped, though Peter couldn't tell how far away they were. "I need test subjects, though I'm sure you already knew that." Harry's voice was even, calculating, cold. "I'll infect Brooklyn, to start with. Brooklyn is the picture of New York, isn't it? Then maybe I'll move on to Manhattan, the Bronx, Staten Island. I hope I'll have found a cure by then, but you never know."

Queens. He didn't say Queens. Aunt May lived in Queens. Flash lived in Queens. Gwen lived in Queens. Why hadn't he said Queens? Peter's last thought before losing consciousness entirely was that, maybe, just maybe, Harry would keep his promise to keep Peter's loved ones safe, even if Peter had failed to stop him.

…

...

Somewhere around the third floor, in between the public labs doing tests on the flu virus and the sealed off labs doing some test with electricity, Flash realized he was in trouble. He'd been walking around like he'd known where he was going, but there were only so many times you could be seen entering the stairwell before someone noticed, and he only made it three flights before he spotted security heading his way.

Shit. He still had no clue where Peter was, although he was beginning to think it would be on the top floor, out of all possible reach. Naively, he'd hoped to find some secret lab door he could pick the lock of and find Peter waiting in handcuffs, which Flash could also pick the locks of. Of course it wouldn't be that simple, Stupid. But no, he'd wasted time wandering the floors and now security was going to kick him out and he'd never get back in. Even if he snuck back in the same way, the second they saw him, he'd be out again. Damn it.

"Young man," an officer called to him as he tried to walk into the bathroom, totally not suspicious and natural. The officer held out a scanner. "Mind if we see your security pass?"

"My-," Flash spoke slowly, trying to come up with an excuse. Peter would be good at this. He could say he left it at home and explain that the desk guard knew him and then go into some kind of science-y rant about the project he was working on up on floor twelve, but how he was down here looking for a friend that was supposed to meet him for lunch, but the dummy wasn't in the lobby so he'd gone looking for them. Oh? Which friend? Gwen Stacy, obviously. Haven't heard of her? She works on floor eight or whatever, and here's an explanation of her important work which was very important. Also, my best friend is Harry Osborne. Did I mention that?

But Flash couldn't go on a science rant. If he pulled out his actual badge, they'd flag him in the system, Harry would know he was in the building, and everything would be over before it began.

"Eugene!" an angry voice sounded from down the hall. Flash and the security officer turned as one to watch Gwen Stacy storm her way over, looking very put-out. "I have been looking all over for you. Os-Corp is no place for a civilian to wander around. I told you to wait in the lobby until I came down."

"I-," Flash frowned momentarily, but then grabbed the opportunity for what it was. "Sorry. You were late. I thought I'd surprise you, but I got lost."

She sighed heavily and crossed her arms loosely. "That's sweet of you, Eugene, but next time, please just wait. Look, now you've made the guards nervous. I'm so sorry, Officer…" she glanced at his name tag, "Prior. My boyfriend just gets a bit antsy when he has to wait somewhere. I hope he didn't cause any trouble."

"Miss," the officer interrupted, now clearly flustered. "You have your security badge?"

"Sure do!" Gwen said with a smile and produced her badge. Before the guard could scan it, she pulled it back and hooked it on her jacket. Then she looped her arm through Flash's and leaned slightly on him. "Sorry again. I'll walk him out, so you can get back to more important things than silly boys."

Between her smile and overflowing confidence, the security guard was outdone. He kept glancing at her badge while he reflexively smiled back at her, but in the end he just bowed his head in her direction and didn't press for her to hand it over. "No worries. I know some stupid guys, too. Please make sure he makes it back to the non-restricted area."

"Absolutely." The smile stayed splayed on Gwen's face until the officer had walked down the hall and out of sight. Then it fell away like the dashing of all Flash's hope when he first spotted her. She was pissed. In an instant, she ripped herself away from him and turned a glare on him so hard that he felt like a ten-year-old again. "What were you thinking, sneaking in here?" she asked in a whispered yell.

"Peter's missing," Flash answered like it explained everything. "I'm not as dumb as people think I am. I went over everything I knew about the situation, and I'm certain he's here in the building. I just have no idea where to start."

Some of the anger slipped from Gwen's expression, but her tone was the same. "You should have asked for help. The reason Peter is in trouble is because he did exactly what you're trying to do. He ran in without backup and without telling anyone. That's not how things work."

"Sorry," Flash mumbled, looking down at his shoes. Then his head snapped up and his brow knit together. "Hang on. How'd you know I was even here?"

Rolling her eyes, Gwen relaxed her stance. "After Tony hung up with you, he knew exactly what you were going to do because you're all the same kind of headstrong. I wasn't supposed to set foot back in this place until after the Avengers came up with a plan, but you threw that plan out the window. Tony sent me because I know the building and the people, so I'd have less trouble finding you."

Damn. Flash was torn between feeling silly that he hadn't immediately assumed Gwen was in on the whole 'Tony and Peter are legally related' thing and thus the whole 'Avengers are trying to do something involving OsCorp' thing too, and feeling jealous that she was clearly more on the 'in' than he was when it came to the Avengers and probably Peter.

Looking a bit reluctant, Gwen added, "and because he knows I won't leave again without Peter."

Relief flooded Flash's whole body and he let out a heavy breath. "So- So you're here to help me?" he asked. He was certain she'd drag him from the building like she promised and take him to get scolded by Mr. Stark and the captain. But-

"Tony was vague enough in his orders. He said… 'Go to OsCorp. Find Thompson and stop him from doing something stupid.' I was already in the elevator when he stopped Jarvis from closing the doors. He leaned in and said, 'Make sure he's alright.' And… I know he sent me in after you, but I also know he was talking about Peter that time." She turned to Flash and slipped her hand in his. He almost complained, but behind her he saw the security guards, so he smiled instead. "So come on. Let's go do something stupid."

Maybe Flash was in love with Peter… but maybe he loved Gwen Stacy a little bit too. He could definitely see what Peter liked about her, and her obvious care for Peter made her impossible for Flash to dislike. She was spunky and brave and devious and just as headstrong as the rest of them. And in that moment, she was like a guardian angel to Flash – swooping in to save him and leading him through the maze of OsCorp.

"Thank you," he said as she led him around to the elevators.

"You're welcome. But maybe thank me later… after we get out of here alive, you know?" She smiled like it was a tease but they both knew it was a serious concern.

The elevator arrived and they stepped into the empty space. Gwen hit the highest floor it would go to and settled in to enjoy the ride. Her hand slipped from Flash's, and he actually missed the comfort of it. Then, as he watched the numbers climb, he realized he had no idea where they were going… but Gwen seemed to.

"Hang on. You know where Peter is?" His brow knit fiercely and he turned to her. "You definitely know more than I do, right? I'm just working with crumbs, but you… and Mr. Stark, and the Captain, and Peter- You're all sitting at the table with the pie." She looked a little guilty and he knew he was right. "Come on. Fill me in here, Gwen. What the hell is really going on?"

The elevator stopped and other workers got on. The two young spies huddled themselves into a corner to make room, and neither said a word for the four floors up the other scientists rode with them. Then they were gone and the two were alone again. Flash turned his attention to her immediately and she sighed, realizing he wasn't going to lighten up.

"Fine," she said with a sigh. The remaining journey up was filled with Gwen explaining everything she knew about Harry and the trouble at OsCorp. She only paused when others joined them, but it was never for more than a floor or two. Mostly they were alone.

Harry had asked Peter for help developing a cure to a debilitating illness that his father, Norman, had been fighting for years. Not trusting the method of testing, Peter declined, but Harry went ahead with the research anyway. Their efforts resulted in the explosion at OsCorp Peter and Flash had seen reported on the TV. That explained why Peter ran off so suddenly after seeing it. He knew that Harry had done something dangerous and wanted the Avengers to look into it. Tony sent Peter to see Harry in person, see if everything was okay, but Harry was infected with the disease and more desperate than ever for a cure. The disease was contagious through contact, so Peter couldn't get near him.

As Gwen had heard it, Harry had made veiled threats to the safety of people. The Avengers weren't sure who was really at risk, and that had them all the more on edge. Flash had to lean back against the elevator when he heard that. He remembered Peter's desperation the previous day after meeting with Harry, remembered how he tried to get Flash to quit. But why? Why hadn't he just told Flash the truth, told him the real danger? But then again… no. Flash knew himself. He would have tried to wrap Peter in bubble wrap and hide him away as soon as he heard. He would have put himself right where Peter was trying to stop him from being.

But that didn't mean… He pressed the side of his finger to his mouth in thought. The kiss hadn't been fake, right? Or had it been a last, desperate lie to get Flash to leave? He didn't want to believe it. And yet-

The elevator finally reached the end of its run and they stepped off into a quiet hall. This was Harry's floor, where he held all his meetings and had his official office. And several floors up from this… Harry lived there. He never got away from the company. This floor was where Flash usually dropped Peter off; except for the time or two that Harry let him up to the penthouse. Mostly, though, Flash had never made it beyond this point. While Flash took a moment to wonder about what kind of things happened on this floor, Gwen started walking.

"This way," she said, her voice hushed. "And watch out for the cameras. Black Widow helped me upload a video loop to them, but we have no way of knowing if Harry's noticed it yet."

"Where are we going?" Flash asked, just as quiet when they hesitated at a corner.

After checking around the corner and verifying that they were alone, Gwen motioned for them to continue. "Harry has a private elevator that runs from the ground level all the way to the roof. It's the only access point for several floors where the OsCorp special projects are housed. The explosion that took place was up on one of them. That's where Peter would have gone."

"If there's a special elevator for them, why didn't we take that one?" Flash asked, annoyance creeping in. Why were they sneaking around Harry's personal business level when Peter was probably several floors up?

Gwen spun on him, frowning. "I don't know, Flash. Do you have a special key card, that I don't know about, that unlocks the private elevator?"

Well damn. Maybe Flash really was dumb, because… yeah… that probably should have been the obvious hiccup in the plan. The only times Flash had made it to the penthouse, Harry had been either with him or had overridden the need for a keycard remotely.

Trying not to sound petulant about being humiliated, he mumbled, "No."

"Alright. Then I thought it would be better to climb up ten flights of stairs instead of a hundred." She turned around again to continue leading him to the private elevator.

If they kept going, Flash knew they'd run into the two guards Harry always had stationed outside his private office. But before they got that far, Gwen diverted to a short hall where the elevator in question was. They didn't have a card reader for it, so Gwen went for the staircase. Just before her hand hit the knob, Flash stopped her and motioned to the sign about the door being alarmed.

With a shake of her head, she assured him it would be fine. They didn't dare risk speaking so close to Harry's guards. Instead, Gwen held up her phone as if that explained anything, and then she was pushing her way into the stairwell.

No alarm went off. Not when the door opened. Not when they were both on the other side. Not when the door shut behind them with a soft click.

"How-?" Flash started.

Gwen cut him off as she started climbing. "The Avengers. They couldn't hack the elevator for me – something about Harry's firewall was too much for them – but they could hack the alarm system. I sent them a text when we got off the elevator. We should be clear for a little while."

Flash's mind was beyond blown. The extent of espionage in what they were doing – the power and skill of the Avengers – the sheer intensity of OsCorp… Flash would need time later to soak it all in, to realize he was in the middle of it and not some bystander hearing about it on the news. It was incredible!

They stopped on each floor, hesitating by the doors to listen for sounds before testing their luck and stepping out of the stairwell. Each floor was silent, devoid of scientists or guards. The meeting rooms, the labs, and even the break rooms all looked like no one had used them in at least a month. There was no sign that any experiments were ongoing.

"Maybe… OsCorp had to make budget cuts and secret ops went first?" Flash offered on their third empty floor.

"Sure. And I'm really a brunette," Gwen retorted. "No. I don't like it. Harry cleared the labs for some reason, and I don't think I want to know what it is."

They came to the next floor, and Flash stared at the number stamped on the wall beside it. Floor ninety-eight. Peter could be behind this door, but so could the reason behind all the empty floors below it. Harry and his disease could be there.

"Let's go," he said, and pushed down on the handle.

The floor was quiet, but not in the dead silence way the other's had been. This one had the sound of static, of machines humming quietly in the distance. Flash put his arm out to hold Gwen behind him after she shut the door. If guards or Harry or giant lizards were going to come at them, he wasn't gonna let them at Gwen first.

They followed the sound of machines to a lab with only half of its lights working. The second half of the room looked like all the bulbs had blown. There was no door to the lab, no glass wall. It was just open air between them and the source of the humming. On a table, a machine whirred on, mixing and spinning some kind of liquid in the middle compartment. A tube came from on top of it and led into a foot-long, canister-like dispenser. To Flash it looked like a science-y version of an aerosol can, but he was sure it was more complicated than that.

In the first glance they got at the room, they could already see a strange, pink colored gas moving through the tube and into the dispenser. In the next second, Flash grabbed Gwen and backed quickly out of view, flush up against the hall wall, several feet away from the lab's entrance.

Harry was in there. Pacing and muttering to himself, the sick scientist showed no signs of having noticed the intruders. Thankfully. But he hadn't looked well at all. His skin was pale and damp even in the brief look Flash had gotten. His hands had been shaking.

"Now what?" Flash asked.

"We have to figure out if Peter's in there too," Gwen said.

Great, Flash thought. How were they supposed to search with Harry walking all over the place?

There was a slamming noise from inside the room, like a heavy fist brought down on one of the metallic tables, and the two of them went silent, waiting to find out they'd been caught. Instead, they heard Harry's voice rise up in an angry rant.

"-could have avoided all of this," he was saying. "If you'd been there, Peter- I know- We could've-"

Flash looked over at Gwen, pinned to the wall by one of Flash's arms. Her eyes stared right back into his. Harry had said Peter's name. He was talking to Peter! But… In the lull of words from Harry, they heard no response from Peter. Was he-? Damn. They couldn't go in swinging and find out. One touch, Gwen had said, and they'd be infected too. Shit, what if Peter was infected? Flash clenched his teeth and tried to calm down. They had to wait and hope Harry left, and that he left Peter behind when he did. It was the only way.

"But it's okay. It's going to be okay. I'm going to fix it, Peter." Harry was speaking again. With sudden fury, he hit the table again. "I'm going to fix it! Damn it! Why did you-!" He stopped, and a long minute passed with only the humming of his machines. Then, quieter but still audible to Flash, Harry continued. "The convention tonight in Brooklyn- the opening ceremonies will give me what I need, and everything will be fine."

Gwen tugged on Flash's arm to gain his attention, and then she motioned back down the hall with her head. Reluctantly, Flash let himself be led away until he couldn't hear or see or guess about anything going on in the lab. He hadn't seen Peter in his quick view of the lab, but the brunette had to be in there. They had to get to him. The way Harry was talking, and more importantly the way Peter wasn't – it made Flash's skin prickle.

Still, he let Gwen push him into the family bathroom. He let her lock the door behind them. Then he sank down to sit against the wall and rubbed his hands over his short hair.

"Damn it," he muttered. He hadn't thought this far ahead. He hadn't considered the possibility that Peter would be guarded by someone infectious or even particularly dangerous. He'd assumed it would be normal guards, if anything. Foolish. Idiotic. Stupid.

"Take a deep breath," Gwen said, phone out, fingers flying over the screen. "Harry has a plan, and when he leaves to enact it, that'll be our chance. We just have to… lay low until then."

Scoffing, Flash let his head tap back against the wall. "Yeah. Easy," he said, voice full of sarcasm. Just lay low and hope Peter wasn't dead in the other room with the crazy man. No problem at all.

…

…

_tbc_


	19. Chapter 19

It was quite a while before Harry left. In total, Flash noted a full half hour on his watch. It might have seemed shorter, except he and Gwen were hiding in the damn bathroom. She was on her phone, typing rapidly, but Flash had no one to text.

Who would he call? He'd already alerted the Avengers. There was no way he'd be calling Peter's aunt. And Flash had no one to warn in his family. His mother was out of town and he didn't give two shits about his dad. In fact, the only person Flash thought about when debating who to call was Peter. Dang. He didn't even think about his friends. How cruel was that?

When they heard Harry leave the lab and get on the elevator, Flash risked a peek out the door. The hall really did seem clear, but part of him expected Dr. Connor's to pop up in his lizard form and eat them or something. Was it obvious Flash wasn't a huge fan of OsCorp anymore?

"Who were you texting in there?" Flash asked as they carefully moved into the hall.

"Black Widow. I got her number at the Tower yesterday. She was making sure we were somewhere safe, and we were discussing Peter's situation and how bad it could be." She slipped her phone into her pocket and then rubbed her arms like she was cold. "Mostly we just hoped he was fine."

"I dunno. We didn't hear him say anything." Flash turned the corner into the open lab. "I'll feel better when I see him."

The main lab was bright, which threw Flash a bit. He'd expected dark and sullen, something perfect for an evil mastermind. But it was just a lab, with technical equipment he didn't know the names of and pristine, metallic surfaces. The room was empty of people and animals, and Flash wondered what Harry had been doing for half an hour in such a clean environment.

There was a viewing window on the far side of the room, and the room behind it was dark. The window itself was several inches thick and must have been reinforced because they could see a crack on one side, but the window on their side was uninjured. The door into the next room looked sealed enough to be used for a nuclear reactor, and Flash wondered what kind of experiments Harry was doing if he needed such precautions.

Peter was nowhere in the main lab, as far as Flash could see. He wasn't lying on the floor or on a table, wasn't working with the equipment or tied to a chair. He just wasn't there.

"The operating room is through that door," Gwen noted. "That's probably where- Oh no."

As they got closer to the window, the room beyond became clearer. It was dark because it was the obvious center of Harry's barely contained explosion. The lighting panels in the ceiling were broken or burned or, in one case, dangling by a cord from the ceiling and full of broken bulbs. Most things in the room were bent or damaged in some way or another except for a brand new looking IV machine that stood beside a mostly vertical operating table. But Gwen's comment hadn't been about the state of the room. It was about who was on the table, strapped down so he wouldn't fall or escape.

"Peter." Flash gasped it more than said it. He went for the door but Gwen pulled him back.

"Wait! Look." She motioned to the cage of rats in the corner near the window.

The cage seemed mostly uninjured from the blast, but the rats inside were another story. Instead of being burned or singed, they were hairless. All of their hair was on the bottom of the cage like a carpet, and their exposed skin looked broken and infected. One rat was actually impaled on the only real damage to the cage, but it looked like it had done it to itself. All three were dead. Flash had to look away from them to hold back his urge to barf.

"They're infected. The whole room is." She motioned to a screen by the door which warned of a contamination risk and Flash took a step back from the door. The room's level of contamination was in the red. "Don't worry. We should be safe out here. Even with Harry going in and out, the infection is spread mostly through physical contact, so the air is... well not 'safe' while in there, but it's unlikely to reach much out here unless the door is left open."

"But Peter's not out here," Flash pointed out. "He's in the room. We gotta get him out and to a doctor. To Mr. Stark."

"No, Peter's-" Gwen stopped and huffed, looking down as she tried to figure out her words. "Damn it. How do I explain this without-… You don't have to worry. Peter is-"

"Spider-man?" Flash asked with another gasp.

With his mind off the rats and his eyes back on what mattered, he saw it. Peter was on the table, yes, but he wasn't dressed in street clothes. He was wearing the Iron Spider outfit! In the dark it was easy to miss with just a cursory glance, but the longer Flash looked, the more detail he saw. There was no mistaking it. Peter was in the real Spider-man costume. One iron web shooter was on the ground and his arm was exposed, but it was the costume all the same.

But the only way he could have the Iron Spider was if-! "He's Spider-man?"

Beside him, Gwen sighed shortly. "Yes."

Confusion and anger boiled up in Flash and he stared hard at the iron chest piece. "But why!? Why wouldn't he tell me? Did he think I wouldn't like him anymore? I idolize Spider-man!"

"Exactly," Gwen said with enough coolness to put out Flash's fire. "Peter doesn't want to be idolized by his friends and family. He's not always Spider-man. Most of the time he's just Peter Parker. Can you imagine the stress of being expected to be this perfect being, of being heroic and witty and selfless all the time? When he's not Spider-man, he doesn't want to go home to someone who idolizes him. He wants to relax."

The Iron Spider's extra legs weren't out, but there was no mistaking that gilded body, the way it wrapped around the shoulders like a backpack. The new iron web shooters, the iron shin guards, the new specialized suit – it was all there. Flash's hero and the man he loved - they were the same person?

"You knew," Flash murmured, trying to understand something he couldn't comprehend. "You knew he was Spider-man the whole time, even when you were dating."

"Yes." How could she sound so calm?! It was like she had planned for this conversation, like she'd memorized the questions and prepped the answers.

"Then why? How could you break up with him?" Flash turned from the window to look instead at the girl he used to be so jealous of. "He was crushed! What if he'd gone into a big fight like that? What if he'd gotten hurt because he was distracted by you in his head? How could you do that to him?!"

"Exactly because he got hurt!" She finally raised her voice, though not to the same level as his. "Peter and Spider-man are different, but they're the same guy, Flash. He can't stop being a hero, and I didn't want him to. But can't you understand?! I wasn't strong enough to watch him come back bloody and bruised. You know you feel the same way. Peter told me how you reacted after he got injured on the Avengers mission in France. You didn't want to see him hurt anymore than I did."

France!? Avengers mission?! Flash remembered the bruising so vividly. From an explosion in a lab, Peter had said. An accident with Tony! How bad had it been right after it happened that Tony couldn't even visit Peter in the medical bay? How quickly had Peter healed without telling Flash and how long did he have to pretend? Holy shit! Peter was fricken Spider-man!

"Of course I don't want him to get hurt!" Flash shouted, his growing shock unable to find any other outlet. Nothing made sense! Except that everything suddenly did! "But-! Peter's strong! He doesn't even need me to guard him! He's been humoring Harry, humoring _me_ this whole time!"

He remembered all the times Peter saved people with Flash right beside him and then pretended to look for Spider-man with him. All that time Peter seemed so exhausted and Flash told him to just get a good night's rest, and it was all because he was running around as Spider-man at night! No wonder people stopped seeing the hero during the day! Peter was being smothered by Flash!

God he'd been so blind! So stupid! How had he not noticed?! How had Peter put up with him all this time?!

Gwen's hand found his shoulder and drew him back from his turmoil. "Flash, save the crisis for later. I know it's a lot to take in, but we have to stop Harry. We have to get Peter out of there, and we have to not get caught doing it. Understand?"

Flash hated that she was talking to him like a child, but he understood why. He was still reeling. He needed an anchor, a focus. "Right." Flash looked at Peter again, at the way he was slumped on the table, arms strapped down. Spider-man could break those restraints like they were paper. So why wasn't he doing it? "Is he infected?"

"I'm sure the virus is trying to infect him, but Spider-man's DNA can destroy any new assailant introduced into the blood stream almost before it begins. And please don't ask me how we tested that." She put her hand on the glass, just below where the crack was on the opposite side. "He's healthy. But we need to wake him up. And there we have another problem."

She pointed to Peter's exposed arm, the one with the suit sleeve rolled back. There they could see a needle injected into the arm, like an IV of sorts, but Flash doubted it was pumping nutrients into the vein.

"He's not going to hear us even if we bang on the wall and scream at him, not while he's sedated like that." She sounded frustrated, and Flash was right there with her.

Harry was out there somewhere, preparing to infect a whole convention for the sake of his experiment gone wrong, to find a cure the wrong way, and Peter was trapped in a room that no one else could enter without getting infected with a painful, powerful, deadly virus. The Avengers could stop Harry, right? But if Mr. Stark and Dr. Banner were still working on the cure, would they be free to fight? And Black Widow fought hand to hand, and so did Captain America. The Captain had a healing factor too. Would he be able to take on Harry without fear of infection like Peter? Or did they need Peter to take on his old friend? No, not Peter. Spider-man.

No. Peter _was_ Spider-man, and they needed him to stop Harry. Whether because he was Harry's friend or because he was immune, Peter was their best hope. Flash frowned and took a moment to consider the situation.

He let out a huff and closed his eyes. "So what you're saying is... Peter's body burns out infections and medication because they're both trying to make changes to his body. So if we get that needle out of his arm, he'd probably wake up like immediately and be able to go kick some Harry Osborn ass, but we can't get to the needle because the room is full of a deadly virus, and without a cure for that virus, the current survival time is like six hours or something slim like that?"

"Okay, wow. Eight hours, Mr. Sunshine, but yes. That is our situation." Gwen crossed her arms about her chest, her forehead knitting as she tried to science her way through the problem.

Flash wasn't a scientist. He was trained in hand-to-hand combat and was definitely a brawn over brains kind of thinker. So really, there was only one thing Flash could do. Remembering Tony Stark's promise back at the tower, Flash took a deep breath.

"Take a step back, Gwen," he said.

She did, but from confusion, not compliance. That was fine. Without waiting to explain himself or hear her questions, Flash ripped the door open and stepped inside the room. Gwen shouted his name, but he pulled the door shut just as quickly as he'd opened it to keep the infected air from escaping.

Eight hours. Flash shook his head and pushed all thoughts of his own expiration date to the back of his mind. He had bigger issues now. There was more at risk than just his own life. New York needed Spider-man. And Flash needed Peter to live. Even if Flash didn't get a cure, he needed Peter to go on living. Because Peter was going to do amazing things, things Flash couldn't even dream of.

Turning from Gwen's muffled shouting, he moved swiftly to Peter's side. The Iron Spider chest plate shone even clearer up close, and Flash was still struck by the sight of it on Peter's body. No. Now wasn't the time.

Moving with an air of caution, Flash tried to remove the needle from Peter's arm, but it seemed to come out too slowly, like it was almost stuck. Maybe Peter's healing factor had tried to heal around the intrusion? Well it needed to let go now. Frustration made Flash pull harder, and then the needle and plug came free with a gross sucking sound and way more blood than Flash had expected.

"Crap!" He dropped the needle, which swung uselessly back against the IV machine's pole, and pressed his hand over the new wound. His heart pounded so hard he thought it might burst. Shit, he'd blown the vessel or something. Damn it, he wasn't a doctor. That had been a stupid idea! Blood leaked out around his fingers and he cursed. Didn't Spider-man have a healing ability?!

And just like that, the blood stopped. Slowly, Flash pulled his hand away. Sure enough, the wound had shrunken to a light scar already. Peter let out a groggy groan, and Flash's eyes snapped to his face. Flash raised his bloodied hand to Peter's shoulder and gently touched Peter's face with the other.

"Peter? Hey, you in there?" he asked. The superhero's eyes cracked open and he took a moment to focus on Flash's face. "That's it. Come on."

"Flash?" Peter croaked. For a moment, he just stared at Flash, still half in a dream, and then he took in the room. His head dropped as he looked down at himself in costume, and then his eyes widened and all sense of sleep fled from his face. "Flash?! Um-! I-!"

"Later," Flash said with more calmness and authority than he felt. "You have to stop Harry. He's about to infect a whole building of people, some convention or whatever, and I don't know which Avengers are on their way. So you gotta get up now."

The final bits of Peter's startled expression faded away then and his lips pressed into a thin line. He glanced over Flash's shoulder, but Flash didn't turn to see what Gwen might be trying to say to them. Whatever it was confused Peter, if his drawn brow was anything to go by, but then he looked back at Flash.

"I'm sorry," he said, and then he flexed his arms and ripped them from the table, breaking the restraints.

Peter might be sorry for hiding the secret, but Flash couldn't even think about that now. Later he might care, assuming he survived, but at that moment, he could only swallow thickly and stare at the muscles in Peter's arms. God, now was not the time to be thinking how sexy Peter was.

He shook his head and held the table for support when that made him dizzy. "Let's go," he grunted. Peter only paused briefly to retrieve the pieces of his costume Harry had removed, and then they headed for the door.

Peter stepped into the other room, snapping his web shooter back in place on his wrist and holding his mask in his free hand. Right behind him, Flash stepped through quickly and pulled the door securely shut. Oh no. Flash frowned and tried to figure out why the movement had felt weird.

"Gwen," Peter began, but he stopped immediately afterward when something fell. That something was Flash. When he tried to walk away from the door, he realized what was wrong. His fingers had felt numb on the door handle, and when he'd tried to step away, his feet had lost feeling too. Now they were more like tingling mystery masses. "Flash?!"

Gwen took a step toward Flash too, but the bodyguard held his numb hand up to stop her. "Don't," he ordered, and she nodded and took an extra step away from both of them.

"Why?" Peter slowly walked closer, and when Flash didn't stop him, he knelt down. "What's wrong?"

It was not Flash that answered. While Flash stared right into Peter's worried eyes, Gwen had the honor of breaking the news. "He's infected," she said. "That room... The toxic levels were in the red. But Flash ran in to get you anyway."

Peter's mouth moved, but no sound came out. From his lips, Flash read the word 'infected', and then Peter's eyes were scanning all over Flash's body for signs of the sickness. But there were no physical signs yet, Flash knew. That didn't change Peter's hardened expression any.

"Stop with the face," Flash said with a grunt, pushing himself sloppily up onto his butt. "You can scold me later. Right now, the city needs Spider-man. You gotta go."

"Go?" Peter asked like an accusation. "Flash, you're-!"

But he didn't finish. Since he could barely feel his hands, Flash had flung his arm around Peter's neck and pulled him further down. As soon as they were close enough he planted a kiss on Peter's lips. Short but no less real. Gwen looked surprised over Peter's shoulder, but not as shocked as Flash had expected. Maybe she'd guessed Flash's feelings all along. Maybe she just didn't mind. But whatever the reason, her expression quickly relaxed and he knew she didn't hold his feelings against him.

Peter's gloved hand gripped the front of Flash's shirt tightly as the blonde pulled back. "Don't make me responsible for Spider-man not saving the day," Flash murmured into the space between them. "Just go. And don't worry about me, or about Gwen. We'll be fine. We're tough. Or have you forgotten?"

He knew Peter. And Peter knew Gwen and Flash were fighters, would find ways to help him even if he asked them not to, and were survivors. Dropping his arm, Flash let Peter pull away, but the hero still didn't leave. He stared at Flash, a conflicted mess of confusion and curiosity and anxiety in his eyes and tugging on his cheekbones. Despite his own fears, Flash smiled.

"Go, Peter," Gwen said behind him. "I've got Flash. You're immune. You have to stop Harry."

Finally. Finally, Peter nodded and stood up. As he reached full height, he pulled his Spiderman mask on, the gold of the suit filtered to deep blue, and wow. Just wow. Flash let out a breath of a laugh, the truth of Spider-man's identity hitting him once again.

Spider-man looked down at him, and now Flash couldn't read his expression. "I'll be back," the masked man promised. He turned to Gwen. "For both of you."

Then he was gone, off to save the people at the convention and the city itself. All the fight left Flash and he sagged. His hands hurt. His feet stung. He didn't want to talk about his other extremities. And every moment that passed had him one step closer to throwing up.

"Gwen," he grunted, fighting the urge to do so at that very moment.

"How are you feeling?" Gwen asked, unable to cross over to him and check his vital signs. Her useless position seemed to annoy her beyond words.

"Not good," he answered honestly. "But Iron Man... he said he'd have a cure. I need to get to Avenger's Tower."

God, he felt terrible. He tried to get up and walk, but his limbs were being as useless as possible and he just fumbled back to the ground. Damn it. He hadn't expected the effects of the illness to be so bad so quick. Judging by Gwen's face, neither had she. And shit, that wasn't a good sign, was it?

Well... at least he'd finally kissed Spider-man, right?

Yeah, sure. But that didn't mean he wanted to die.

…

…

The American Science and Technology Convention, or AST Con for short, was an OsCorp funded convention welcoming scientists from the entire western hemisphere to come and present, discuss, and collaborate on new innovations and discoveries in any scientific or technology field. Thousands of people attended every year.

This year it was being held in Brooklyn.

Peter swung through New York as fast as he could, using the gliders and jets of the Iron Spider suit to speed up his movements.

"JARVIS," he said as he moved. "Where are the Avengers?"

_"Mr. Parker, so glad to hear your voice,"_ JARVIS answered. _"We were getting worried after that call from Miss Stacy."_

"Where are the Avengers?" Peter repeated, flipping in the air and shooting more webbing.

After a pause, the only hint that perhaps JARVIS was upset at the brush off, the A.I. said, _"All of the Avengers other than Ms. Romanoff and Mr. Banner are at the American Science and Technology Convention in Brooklyn. Ms. Romanoff and Mr. Banner are in route."_

Good. They knew where the threat was. They could help keep the collateral damage from Harry's mad plan to a minimum.

Peter landed on the glass wall of the convention building where AST Con was taking place and quickly climbed to the nearest entry – an open window.

_"Papa sends his regards and orders to stay away from the convention if you are feeling any effects from the disease."_

Rolling his eyes as he landed in a bathroom with five stalls – a ladies room – Peter said, "For the last time. He's not my 'papa.' Just call him by name like you do everyone else. And I feel fine. Besides, I'm already here."

JARVIS didn't respond but Peter knew he was telling Tony about Peter's arrival. Peter, meanwhile, pulled up information about where Harry might be at this exact moment.

Opening ceremonies for the convention. Obviously. That would be where Harry would strike. All the speakers and most of the convention attendees would be assembled in one room.

Peter jumped the stairs until he was on the ground level, then ran around shocked attendees on his way to the big ceremony room. Instead of going in through the same door as regular con goers would, Peter found the back way in, the way presenters would enter.

He came into the room behind the stage, where a few dozen people were milling about waiting for their turn on the stage or simply helping everything go according to plan. And against the wall, bent over and looking exhausted but surrounded by four guards, was Harry.

Everyone but Harry looked over when Peter activated his jets and gliders to get over everyone's heads and land near Harry. "Harry!" Peter said.

Now Harry looked up. His eyes were wide, almost as if he'd seen a ghost. "How…You got out." His eyes narrowed. "He could've ended peacefully. Why would you make him suffer this?" he spat and motioned to himself, his weakness, his short breath, his sweating, the rash hidden by his clothes, the hair loss he was concealing.

Harry honestly thought Spider-man and Peter were two different people. The truth hit Peter like a brick. He knew Peter and Spider-man had the same body but he truly believed they were separate people. He loved Peter. He hated Spider-man.

"JARVIS," Peter murmured, knowing the A.I. could hear him. "Tell Papa to get everyone out of the opening ceremonies."

_"No need, Pip,"_ Tony's voice responded. _"I heard you. We're searching the building for anything he could use to release the disease but Hawkeye says you're in with the crazy. What's up?"_

"He's carrying the disease," Peter murmured. There was no proof, but Peter knew Harry. He'd keep it close so he could release it himself. He didn't make others do his work for him. "And I need to speak to him as Peter, not Spider-man."

A moment later, something crashed into the back of the stage and exploded. The stage began to collapse on its left side. Then another something exploded on the right, causing the stage to fall completely apart. Peter barely heard the 'thwip, thunk' of an arrow in flight and then connecting with its target before a third explosion happened. This time though it was just purple smoke. Hawkeye was in the roof somewhere.

Important speakers, who had been staring at Spider-man and Harry Osborn, as well as all the guests on the other side of the stage, started yelling and running for the exits. Only a few got out before men dressed in black blocked the doors.

"Nobody leaves!" Harry shouted, his eyes flickering around for the source of the explosions but always returning to Peter. "This is my experiment! You can't leave!"

"Uh oh," Hawkeye's voice said in Peter's head. "Need back up. Osborn has an army, you guys."

"Harry, let them go," Peter said.

Harry glared at him. "You don't talk to me."

And just as suddenly as Harry's guards had covered the doors, there was a commotion from the other side of the ruins of the stage. Everyone backstage did their best to look over the wreckage to watch as Iron Man, Captain America, and Thor shot plasma blasts and lightning – and good old-fashioned punches – around at the guards without hitting the convention goers. One guard managed to shoot at Tony but the bullet just bounced off the armor and Tony took him down a moment later.

"If everyone could please exit in an orderly fashion," Steve announced to the room at large.

Orderly was about the last thing he got. People rushed for the two doors the Avengers had just cleared. They crashed into each other, got shoved into walls or to the floor, and screamed the entire time. It was chaos. The presenters backstage began hurrying for the doors across the room as well.

Peter saw Harry reach into his jacket and rushed at him. Harry's guards grabbed him by the arms but almost as soon as they touched him, the three waldoe spider arms built into the suit shot out at Peter's thoughts. The extra arms startled Harry's guards and then shoved both men several feet away and sent them rolling on the floor. The two other guards who hadn't grabbed at him shied away from the now raised extra spider legs, then turned and ran. Peter paid them no mind.

Harry had already pulled the foot long container from his jacket. He looked Spider-man in the face and moved his fingers to the switch that would release the gas inside.

The waldoes snatched the container from Harry almost faster than Peter could think it. It landed in his hands and he did a quick check that the seal hadn't been broken. It was still intact. Good.

People were still streaming for the doors and Thor, Steve, and Tony were still dealing with the thirty-odd guards Harry had brought with him, but Peter let them deal with that. He didn't know what Clint was doing and he didn't care. He had the disease in his hands.

"Spider-man," Harry snapped him out of his relief. "Give that back."

Peter shook his head. "I can't let you have this, Harry," he said. "You want to hurt people."

Looking like Peter had just insulted his mom, Harry said, "Hurt? I want to save them. I need a cure so I can save people."

The little CEO lunged at Peter and Peter dodged. Even just that one manic movement seemed to drain Harry and he had to stand with his hands on his knees while he breathed harshly through his nose.

"People are dying," Harry said softly, his voice almost lost to the din of combat and screaming civilians around them. "I am dying. I need this. I need this. Peter."

The name, spoken with such earnest desperation, shocked Peter as much as a taser ever had. The waldoe arms retreated. With most people already out of the room or fighting to get there (or fighting the Avengers in the room), Peter didn't hesitate to hold the container in one hand and remove his mask with the other.

The metal mask hitting the ground made Harry look up. They locked eyes. "Peter," he repeated, that same earnest desperation coloring his tone and his face. "Please."

Peter frowned. "Harry…I can't," he apologized. Harry jolted like he'd been slapped. "What you're doing? I know you want to save people. I know you want to help people, Harry. I do. But this isn't helping. You want to infect an entire city trying to find a cure to a disease you created. You'll kill millions of people with no guarantee that you'll accomplish anything."

Harry lashed out again, trying to snatch the container from Peter's hands, but Peter just stepped back twice and he was out of reach. Harry fell to his knees. He was so weak, so tired. This wasn't a fight of the body between them. This was a fight of the mind.

Something blew up across the room, on the other side of the stage, but neither Peter nor Harry saw what it was. Peter had knelt down so that he and Harry were on the same level. "Harry, look at me."

He got a baleful glare, which was good enough.

"Let the Avengers help you," he beseeched. "They're working on a cure. They're finding one without needing all these human test subjects. You don't have to hurt anyone else."

Harry's eyes moved over Peter's face slowly. The sounds of fighting and screaming were dying out around them. Harry's shoulders lowered and Peter's followed suit. He was winning Harry over. He was convincing him of the good.

Then the container was out of Peter's hand and in both of Harry's.

"I have to do this," Harry said, quick as a bullet, even as he flipped the seal open.

Gas began leaking out of the container in a rush. Peter gasped and snatched up his helmet, throwing it on top of the container with one hand while he grabbed the glass top with his other and ripped it from Harry's grip once more.

"Turn off the air!" Peter shouted to anyone listening, even as his fingers fumbled under the helmet to find the switch to close the container again.

It took about three seconds to flip it closed, and Peter didn't see any gas escape his helmet's built in air filtration system, but he would still tell Tony to scan and sanitize the entire building before he would feel confident they'd contained the disease.

"Why you-," Harry managed, and then made a sort of choking sound and stopped.

Raising his head, Peter saw Natasha in her Black Widow outfit standing behind Harry. One of her hands held him in place while the other was holding a needle and vial that was injecting Harry with a pearly white fluid.

"What is that?" Peter asked.

When Natasha pulled the needle from Harry's neck and released him, Harry folded up on the ground, unconscious but with a furrowed brow.

"The cure, we hope," she said.

Peter frowned. "You…hope?"

Bruce walked over from the same door Peter had used to get in. "It showed every indication of being a proper cure, but there's only so much testing you can do using simulations. We needed a test subject, just like Mr. Osborn did. Luckily for us, we need people who are already sick, not people who are healthy."

Natasha reached down and pulled the scarf off Harry's neck. She then unbuttoned his shirt and opened it so that they could see his rash ridden chest. For a moment, Peter was confused as to why she was being so open with touches to an infected person. Then he realized that she wore clothing over every part of her body except her head, so she wasn't making any real physical contact with Harry at all.

Tony, Thor, Steve, and Clint all joined them a few minutes later. Peter made sure to keep the container with the disease, his helmet still over it, as far from the others as he could. Just in case.

"Everyone out?" Peter asked, looking around the room.

Steve nodded. "They're safe, and so is your identity," he said. "We've already called the authorities, so police and emergency services should be on scene in about a minute to take care of all the guests."

"And the guards," Tony added, with a blasé wave toward a pile of unconscious bodies in the corner.

"Look," Natasha said, and all attention was drawn back to Harry.

The rash was disappearing.

"It's working," Bruce said.

Tony leaned in closer. "Of course it's working. We made it."

"Good," Steve said with a nod. "Now get doses of this sent to the hospital to cure all the people infected there. We need to move fast. Many have died already."

Like an anvil on his chest, Peter remembered Flash. Flash, lying in the lab after letting himself get infected to save Peter. Flash, who kissed Peter like he was dying.

"Flash!" Peter gasped out loudly, drawing everyone's attention. He turned wild eyes on Tony. "Flash got infected helping me. You have to-The antidote! You have to get him the antidote!"

Bruce accepted the vial that had held the cure from Natasha. "We'll get him some later, after administering it to those at the hospital. If he was just infected recently, it means he has the most time."

Peter shook his head. "He already couldn't stand when I left him with Gwen. I think-I think he's in real trouble." He looked around at the faces of all his colleagues and heroes, everyone he looked up to other than his aunt. "Please. I think he's dying."


	20. Chapter 20

The room was blue. That was the first thing Flash noticed when he cracked open his tired eyes. Then he noticed the dull ache in his body. Usually, waking up somewhere strange with an achy body would be cause for concern, but he recognized the room from when Peter had gotten all those bruises, and when he'd lost consciousness his body had been either too painful or without feeling. Achy was definitely an improvement.

He was in the Avenger's Tower, on the medical floor. He didn't remember getting there. Hell, he didn't remember making it out of OsCorp, but he wasn't going to complain. He took a short breath and turned his head to look around the room. The motion did not make him dizzy and relief hit him. They had found a cure. He wasn't dying.

While he would have loved to see Peter first, it was not the loveable photographer waiting in the room for Flash to regain consciousness. It was Tony Stark. He sat in a rolling chair meant for a doctor and messed with his tablet. When Flash turned his head, Tony abruptly halted whatever he was doing and regarded the young man for a long moment.

"So the bodyguard lives," he finally said when he was sure Flash was actually conscious. "Well, I suppose you're not a bodyguard anymore, are you? Gonna have to come up with a new nickname for you."

"What-," Flash paused to clear his throat. "What happened?"

"Short version? We stopped the infection of hundreds of innocent lovers of science and cured those already infected… who weren't already dead. Found you passed out in front of a stairwell door because you couldn't get on the elevator and Gwen couldn't touch you to get you down the stairs." He set his tablet to the side and stood up to press a button on the side of Flash's bed. Nothing happened, but Tony didn't seem worried. "Really you're just lucky the serum worked at all. The virus contained in that lab was so concentrated that it's a miracle you still have your organs intact."

"Harry? Peter?" Flash asked, trying to sit up, but his limbs still felt flimsy. He managed part way and then Tony pressed another button to move the bed into an upright position.

"Harry's in a quarantine lock down. We told police he wasn't sick anymore, but they did it anyway. All the better, I suppose. This way he won't have access to much of anything." Tony sighed and closed his eyes. "And Peter is probably losing his mind in the elevator because he thinks it's going too slow now that he knows you're awake. He asked Jarvis to alert him when we were sure. I mean, he was going to waste away here the whole time, but we needed him in the lab and also he needed to eat. The kid has the metabolism of a cheetah and he wasn't eating. Like what kind of idiot-?"

" _Mr. Parker is arriving_ ," Jarvis warned just before they heard the elevator ding.

"Anyway," Tony said, shifting gears, "You're still recovering, though you're not infectious anymore. So no more running off to catch bad guys or rescue boyfriends or whatever. Got it?"

"Got-?" Did he say boyfriends? What did he mean? Was he being sarcastic and teasing or had Peter said something?

Before Flash could formulate a proper question, Peter was tripping into the room. "Hey," he said when he'd come to a stop.

"Hey," Flash answered automatically.

Tony rolled his eyes as Peter slowly walked in. "His infected cell count is down to zero, so he's safe to touch – not that you could get infected anyway. He needs a few days rest but then you two can go back to playing basketball and stuff. Banner wants to keep an eye on him anyway, since he was the last infected and the disease got him so much faster. Something about making sure there wasn't a relapse."

"Thank you, Tony." Peter embraced his godfather, which temporarily stunned the older man.

When he was released, Tony cleared his throat. "Right. Well since you're up here, I guess I'll head back to the workshop. Don't need two people on watch duty, and I'm sure you two have plenty to catch up on."

While he left, neither Peter nor Flash said a word. In fact, they continued in silence long after the elevator descended. Peter was looking around the room, clearly anxious, but Flash watched Peter. The photographer looked as normal as ever, in his floppy jacket and his street clothes. There was no bruising from a fight, no fatigue from being drugged, no sign that the previous night he had been held hostage and fought a good friend of his.

He was just Peter.

"So," Peter finally said. "I'm… I'm Spider-man."

"Yeah?" That wasn't what Flash had expected to hear. "I hadn't noticed."

"R-Right." Peter fidgeted with the cuff of his jacket. "What I meant was – are you mad about it? I mean, I've wanted to tell you for weeks, but the timing never seemed right, and then this thing with Harry came up, and – like I'd understand if you were a little pissed, alright?"

Flash let the words hang, gave them a good moment to sink in. Peter was worried Flash was angry? Okay, so maybe he had been a little disappointed and emotional, and maybe he'd shouted a lot. But was he angry?

"Okay, I'll admit, when I saw you in the suit… I didn't get it. How could Puny Parker from school be Spider-man, you know?" Flash frowned and glanced down at his sheets so he wouldn't see Peter's expression. "But mostly I was confused, 'cause… I mean, I thought 'why didn't he trust me?' And Gwen helped me understand it better, I think."

He remembered lying outside of the stairwell, all his energy gone from the crawl there, and realizing he was probably going to die. Gwen never left him, good as she was, and she did her best to get his mind off what was happening. So she'd talked about Peter back in school and how the Spider-man thing had even happened, how exactly 'puny Parker' had become 'wall crawling hero'. It was eye-opening, and a little bit scary. Gwen said it was a miracle Peter had even survived the transformation. By that point, she was lying on the ground beside him, like they were just relaxing together, and he didn't have the energy to thank her for it.

Flash glanced up at Peter for a moment, briefly thinking about how different life would be if that spider bite had killed him instead of turned him. Wow, that would have been awful. Not only would the city probably be dead now, but then Flash would never have gotten two am cake through his bathroom window or probably have gone to college, nor was it likely he would've had the strength to become a better person on his own, and he most definitely wouldn't have ever kissed Peter three times. And wow. That was the truth wasn't it? They'd kissed three times! Spider-man had kissed him long before Peter had, and there was no need for it either. So that meant- That meant Peter really did like him, and it hadn't been an act to get him away from Harry. Hope hit Flash like a balled up t-shirt to the face and he twitched from the shock.

And Peter stood there, not knowing Flash's thoughts or how much he knew, but he looked a little torn between relieved and concerned after hearing Gwen had talked Flash through the shock of the reveal. It almost made Flash want to laugh. But he couldn't laugh right now. They still had to clear up this whole 'secret identity' thing.

"So I think I've got a handle on it now," Flash continued, and Peter's face went more relaxed than nervous. Flash shrugged and settled more heavily onto his pillows. "And when I think back, I guess it's not so crazy for you to be Spider-man. I mean, you're both stubborn and witty. You're both stupidly unselfish." There he knit his brow in disappointment and set a slight glare on Peter. "I mean, you should have just told me to buzz off instead of going through sleep withdrawal. I told you, you're not supposed to be a threat to yourself. Idiot."

Despite the scold, there was a little smile on Peter's lips and it tugged up higher after Flash stopped talking. Good. It was a fond look, like maybe Peter understood what Flash was trying to say – that he wasn't mad. Not really. At least not at Peter. Honestly, Flash was still more upset by his own inability to recognize what was wrong with Peter the whole time. He watched Peter so closely, claimed to love him, and yet he hadn't noticed he was in the way of a hero.

"Don't worry about it, Peter," he added after the silence had gone on long enough. "It's a lot to take in, but I can handle it. And I won't tell anyone. Your secrets are safe with me."

"Good." Peter scratched lightly at his cheek. "And, uh, speaking of, speaking of secrets." His eyes flicked away from Flash to the different machines in the room. "I…There might be…one more, that you don't know yet?"

Flash frowned. Another secret? Something other than Spider-man? What else could Peter possibly be hiding? Gwen would've told him, when he was lying prostrate and dying on the floor, if she'd known something else. Right?

The silence made Peter look in Flash's direction again. Their eyes met for a brief second and then, cheeks dusted pink, Peter looked up at the ceiling instead. "I, uh…Morning breath," he blurted.

"What?"

Peter cleared his throat, and then lowered his head until he was looking at Flash head on once more. "I like you. I what's-wrong-with-morning-breath like you."

Flash's eyebrows shot up toward his hairline, not because he hadn't had a clue about this but because of the words used. He'd hoped Peter liked him like that. He'd guessed Peter had after the kiss and then when he realized the Spider-man kiss was also Peter. But to hear his own words used, his own insecure ramblings in the middle of the night, to explain how Peter felt – somehow that made it real.

"And I know you like someone else, and I don't know who it is, but I just wanted you to know I was an option… You know, in case the other one doesn't work out," Peter tagged on quickly after Flash didn't immediately reply to the confession.

Shock and elation mixed in Flash's stomach and he burst out with a laugh that had Peter looking concerned. Flash tried to wave the look away, but he was still laughing and couldn't explain. Eventually, Peter stepped up and grabbed Flash's flailing hand, and the ex-bodyguard was able to slowly pull himself together.

"Sorry," he said after a deep breath. "It's just- Peter. You're supposed to be a genius." He grinned up at the brunette, who only looked more confused. "The person I like is you."

"Wh-Wha?" Peter's grip on Flash's wrist tightened slightly and then went slack. "But-"

"The guy Harry thought I was dating with his money was you. Who else did I spend time with, dumbass?" He tried to shift his position, to be able to look at Peter better, but his body protested the movement and he grunted as he fell back against the pillows. "I swear, when I can get out of this bed, we're gonna have to talk about communication. And at least part of that is going to be me bopping you in the back of the head." A sudden thought had him closing his eyes and groaning. "And then you can pretend it actually hurt, when you actually didn't feel a thing. Damn. I keep forgetting I was a dumbass too."

Peter slipped his hand down Flash's wrist and into his palm, intertwining their fingers. "That's alright," he said. "I can still pretend it hurt, if it'll make you feel better."

"Yeah. It would." Flash opened his eyes and looked up to find Peter smiling softly at him. It was a look he knew, but never this intensely when aimed at him. It was a look he really liked. Like a lot. He felt his own face soften into a returning smile for a moment, but then he cleared his throat and looked away from Peter altogether. When he spoke, he tried to sound unaffected and tough. "Careful, Peter. We're getting a little close to mushy territory."

With a soft chuckle, Peter leaned over Flash and took over his vision. "Oh well," he said with a tease in his voice. Flash watched as the playfulness faltered in Peter's expression, and then Peter's lips parted slightly and took in a slow breath. "Would it… Would it be alright now… to kiss you?"

The hesitance in the question caught Flash off guard, and he snorted, causing Peter to retreat a few inches. Then the blonde reached up and slipped his hand onto the back of Peter's neck. "Yeah, like, that's been 'alright' for a long time now, Pete."

In a way, he couldn't believe he was allowed to say that either, so he understood Peter's nerves. Flash had been hoping and wishing for weeks that somehow, someday Peter would like him too, and now he did. Now Peter was Spider-man and an Avenger and leaning closer to Flash like there was any possibility that he could mess this up, which was impossible. Flash had helped save the city and the Avengers knew him by name. Peter's eyes slipped shut as he got too close to see Flash clearly, and Flash closed his shortly after.

How was it possible that Flash was kissing Peter and not dreaming? He slipped his fingers up into Peter's hair and held on, pressing himself more into the kiss. And they kissed. And kissed. And they probably would have kept kissing if Peter hadn't started laughing in between contacts.

It was a giddy, relieved sort of sound, and he dropped down to sit on the bed as he lost control. His head leaned on Flash's shoulder, his hand gripping Flash's tightly, and he just giggled breathlessly. All Flash could do was brush his fingers through Peter's long hair and wait to see if the hero was going to be alright.

Finally, slowly, the laughter died, but Peter didn't move. Instead, he took a deep breath and spoke into Flash's hospital gown. "I was so sure you were going to die, and I'd never get to tell you all of that." His breath left him in a deep sigh. "Thank God."

Was he thankful for Flash surviving? For being able to be honest? For their feelings being mutual? For the Avengers arriving in time or his own super human abilities? All of it? Flash frowned at the ceiling and breathed slowly. Flash was definitely thankful for all of it, but the ordeal seemed to have taken more out of Peter than Flash, despite Peter's healing.

They stayed there, Flash too sore to get up and Peter too relieved to move, until after the physical fatigue pulled Flash into sleep once more. After that, he didn't know how long Peter laid with him, but he knew, thankfully, that it wouldn't be the last time.

…

…

" _OsCorp continues to flounder after the death of its creator, Norman Osborn, and the arrest of CEO Harry Osborn. Two days ago, the young CEO attempted to infect thousands of New Yorkers with a deadly virus as part of a science experiment gone wrong, much like former OsCorp scientist Curtis Connors did just over one year ago. Connors transformed himself into infamous villain The Lizard before infecting a dozen police officers with the same virus that gave him his own monstrous change. In the wake of these attacks, many wonder if OsCorp can be still be trusted. Since its inception, OsCorp has stood as a beacon of hope and innovation. Now it seems that this once great super power has turned to the dark side of science. Many-"_

The woman's news report cut abruptly as Peter flicked off the TV, not with the remote but with a blast of webbing to the power button below the screen. The remote was too far away, honestly. Sitting on the couch next to him, Flash nearly dropped his soda.

"I'm not sure I'll ever get used to that," Flash muttered, covering his face with a free hand.

Peter grinned for a moment, liking that he could surprise Flash with his powers and inventions still, and then turned serious. "I feel bad."

Looking up from the meatloaf on the plate in his lap, Flash furrowed his brows. "About what? Webbing the TV?"

Peter shook his head. "No. About OsCorp. Most of the people there really are trying to do good. Even Dr. Connors was…I mean, he wasn't a bad person. Isn't," he corrected himself. "The problems coming out of OsCorp were because of people rushing the scientific process. Skipping steps. When science is done right, when it's allowed to work at the proper pace and in its own time…it's good." He sighed. "I just…I feel bad that so many people are going to lose their jobs or their funding, and that so many great discoveries won't be made for years, made even decades, because of a few wrong turns."

Flash used his fork to point at Peter. "Hey. You have to admit, those were some pretty awful wrong turns," he said. "People nearly died. _I_ nearly died. So yeah, OsCorp's going down the drain, but those scientists or whatever are gonna start working for another company or whatever pretty quick. So science can keep its own time. Or whatever."

The former bodyguard then stabbed a piece of meatloaf and shoved it in his mouth like that made a point for him or something. Peter couldn't help but stare. _No one_ like his aunt's meatloaf, but Flash had asked for seconds, and had reheated thirds to eat in the living room while they watched TV together. It was baffling.

He shook his head. "Yeah," he admitted. "Tony's already hired a bunch of them to work for Stark Enterprises' science departments."

Flash waved the fork as if to say 'See? What'd I tell you?' while his mouth was full. Once he'd swallowed, he asked, "Gwen?"

A nod. "He offered, but she said she wanted to go overseas. You know, get away from all the OsCorp stuff. Then he said she could work in one of the branches overseas and she almost said yes, but," he shrugged. "Tony said he'd leave the offer open for her if she ever changed her mind. And then Pepper reminded him that she ran the company now so actually she got to do the hiring, not Tony."

That got a laugh out of Flash. Flash didn't know about the history between Tony and Pepper, all the bumps along the way, the almost-relationship, but he'd met Pepper once while still in Avengers Tower in the medical wing. She'd come in to chastise Tony about something or other and Tony had happened to be in with Flash and Peter at the time. When she had gone, Flash had smirked and said she reminded him of Gwen in high school.

"So," Flash said after a few minutes of him eating in silence. "Gwen's going to Europe?"

"Yeah," Peter confirmed, looking at his knees. "London, probably."

It was weird to think that Gwen wouldn't be around. She'd been a part of Peter's life for years now – someone he could count on, who stood by him, who _loved_ him. They weren't together anymore, though they both knew their feelings for each other would never fully fade away, and yet this move felt to Peter like a final break up. Once Gwen got on that plane, that was it. She'd be too far away to call whenever he felt like it. She wouldn't get mixed up in his superhero business anymore.

A hand landed on his on the couch and Peter looked up to see Flash pointedly staring at the blank TV screen. "Flash?"

Flash shook his head. "You've still got me," he said, stilted. "You-….You've got me. And I…" He was really struggling with this, whatever it was. Peter turned his hand so he was holding Flash's properly and gave it a squeeze. Flash took a deep breath. "My dad was pretty crap about everything. With my mom. With….with me. He wasn't-"

"Flash," Peter started, but Flash squeezed his hand back and he stopped.

Flash huffed and looked Peter in the face. "I'm gonna do better than that, Peter. I'm gonna be the best person I can be, for you and for-for me." He heaved a big sigh that made his shoulders rise and fall dramatically. "So know that you'll always have me. I'm not going anywhere."

It was true that Peter's feelings for Gwen would always be there. He would never forget her or ever really stop loving her. But he also loved Flash, and Flash also loved him. And, like Flash, he was gonna give his all to this relationship. He was going to be the best boyfriend Flash could have. And that Spider-man let him be.

"I'm not going anywhere either, Flash," Peter said.

Tension seemed to leech from Flash's body. Peter's eyes ran over him from his shoulders to his feet and back up. When he reached Flash's head, his lips quirked up.

"What do you say we take care of that hair?" he asked.

Flash released Peter's hand to run both of his hands over his head. The disease had made him lose most of his hair in just hours, and it was still patchy. The hair that hadn't fallen out was long enough to clearly see that Flash was a blond, while the rest of his head was covered in barely sprouted specks. He grimaced, and Peter knew it must feel as weird as it looked, maybe even weirder.

"What'd you have in mind?" Flash asked, setting the empty meatloaf plate aside.

Standing from the couch, Peter reached down and lifted Flash to his feet. The taller man stumbled a bit, still weak from his ordeal, but Peter kept him up. "I was thinking a shave."

They walked as a pair to the Parker house's downstairs bathroom, where Flash took a seat on the closed toilet and Peter retrieved the razor. For a little while, the mechanical buzz of the razor was the only sound in the bathroom. Flash twitched whenever falling hair brushed his face but otherwise kept very still.

Instead of staying at Avengers Tower for the entire length of time it took for him to heal up, Flash was staying with Peter and his aunt. Tony had sent along all the necessary equipment for Flash to do rehabilitation exercises 'at home' while he recovered. He could strengthen his muscles all from the comfort of May Parker's living room. He still had to go see the Avengers and the S.H.I.E.L.D. doctors to make sure the virus didn't come back, but otherwise Flash was greatly enjoying living with the Parkers.

"You know," Peter started when he was nearly done with Flash's head. "I'm grateful to Harry."

"Oh yeah?" Flash asked. Peter hummed. "For what?"

A shrug. "Well, he did get me a bodyguard to protect me from all those rival companies trying to poach me onto their science teams."

Flash chuckled once. "The only 'rival company' you met was your godfather. And I hardly kept you away from him."

"Okay, but what about all those crimes I was kept away from? I could've been seriously hurt, but you kept me safe."

Still grinning, Flash said, "Be honest, Peter. I did more harm than good, keeping you away from crime. The most I saved you from was being hit by a car because you were moonlighting as a superhero instead of doing it as your day job."

Finished shaving Flash's head, Peter turned off the razor and knelt in front of Flash. "But you did save me from getting hit by a car," he said.

"I did," Flash said, nodding. He ran his hand over his bald head and frowned.

Peter reached up and stopped Flash from continuing to rub his own head. "You saved New York."

Now Flash gave him a confused look. "No I didn't. I got infected while you and the Avengers saved New York."

"Harry had me caught. I was out of the game. But Harry wanted me safe, so he got me a bodyguard, and that bodyguard saved me, so I could save everyone else." He kept his tone playful, even while his eyes on Flash's were very serious. "You were a good bodyguard."

A faint flush of pink flooded Flash's cheeks. "Thanks."

Peter gave a little shrug and stood again. "But I'm more grateful to Harry for the bodyguard because it got me a boyfriend. I mean really. Who would've thought?"

Flash smirked up at Peter until Peter asked what he was smirking about. Then he shook his head and leaned against the back of the toilet, like it was a lounge chair.

"You got a boyfriend out of a bodyguard," Flash said. "I got one out of a superhero. I'm pretty sure I made out better here. I mean, I could probably bench press you, but you could bench press a semi."

Peter actually took the time to give this a thought. He'd never tried to lift a semi truck before, but he had lifted very heavy things that were about the size of a semi truck. He could probably do it.

Without Peter's help, Flash used the counter for support in standing up on his own. He cleared his throat. "Now come on, break time's over. Time to get back to my rehab."

…

…

_tbc_


	21. Chapter 21

_"How's Flash doing?"_

Peter leaned backward over the couch so that he was viewing Flash and Natasha upside down. They were in the sparring ring on the other side of the room. "Good. He's doing good. He's even getting training at the Tower."

At the moment it was actually strengthening exercises. He was almost back to his pre-virus strength, where he could be a professional bodyguard again if he wished.

Natasha landed a palm to Flash's chest and he went down hard to the mat. Peter winced in sympathy.

"His hair's growing back," he said to Gwen.

_"Well that's good,"_ she said.

"Here. Hold on." Peter held his phone out, opened the camera app, zoomed in on Flash as he got in his ready stance again, and snapped a picture. It sent to Gwen immediately. "I sent you a pic."

After a few seconds, she hummed. _"Oh, great composition."_

"Really?" Peter asked dubiously. He knew phone cameras were getting good, but he'd zoomed in pretty far. It would've been grainy.

_"Oh yeah,"_ Gwen said. _"I especially like that it's upside down. Very impressionistic."_

That made Peter jolt back to sitting upright, rather than watching the match across the room. "Oh." He blushed and was glad Gwen couldn't see it over the phone. She could probably hear it in his voice though. "Sorry."

Gwen laughed. _"Don't worry about it, Peter. But it is interesting. He looks like he did in high school."_ Her voice was light and teasing as she continued. _"Hopefully he's not bullying you again though."_

Now it was Peter's turn to laugh. He didn't see how the sound drew Flash's attention, or how Natasha took advantage of it to lay him out on the mat again.

"Oh, he is," Peter said, grinning. He leaned forward to rest his elbows on his knees. "He keeps showing off how strong he's getting by wrapping his arms around my neck and giving me noogies. Noogies, Gwen!"

_"How terrible."_

No, _Gwen_ was terrible.

"My hair, Gwen!" Peter complained, running his hand through said brown locks. "Tony and the Avengers already mess it up enough. Now Flash is doing it too."

Gwen let out a sound not unlike a coo. _"Poor baby."_

Why did Peter ever like this woman? Honestly, Peter had terrible taste in partners. His bitter reflection was negated by the grin he couldn't keep off his face.

"How's London?" he asked, politely interested and smoothly changing the subject.

There was a moment's pause as Gwen registered the switch _. "It rains a lot, and I can't understand what people are saying half the time."_

"Pssh," Peter said. "Of course not. They're speaking English."

_"I know,"_ Gwen said in a way that Peter knew she was nodding her head emphatically. _"But I've only been here for a few days. I'm sure I'll get it."_

"I know you will," Peter corrected her.

"Peter! Your turn!" Natasha called from behind him. "Your boyfriend's at his limit for the day."

"Hey!" Flash said, affronted.

Chuckling, Peter said, "Gotta go, Gwen. Avengers stuff."

Down the line, Gwen hummed thoughtfully. _"Nothing too serious?"_

Peter shook his head even as he stood from the couch. "Nah. Just training. Getting my butt kicked. You know, the usual."

_"Have fun,"_ Gwen said easily. _"Be safe."_

"You too," Peter said, and then hung up.

On the way across the room, Peter tossed his phone onto a table and himself into the ring. He clapped a hand on Flash's shoulder. Flash's eyes widened, like he just realized that Peter was actually going to fight.

"Oh man. I can't believe I'm actually gonna see you fight the Black Widow," he breathed out.

Peter scoffed. "You've been fighting her for like an hour."

Flash shook his head. "Not really. Trust me, I know fights. That was not a fight. You're actually-" He paused, maybe remembering how Peter had told him he'd fought Natasha before, then let out a breath. "I might need to sit down."

Peter pat his back as Flash moved to the edge of the ring, until his fingers no longer touched the other man. When Flash was outside of the ring and sitting in one of the chairs nearby, watching, Peter's spider sense flickered.

He dropped to the floor in a crouch and swung his leg out even as Natasha's leg struck where his head used to be. While he did sweep her other leg to the side, Natasha managed to catch herself with her hands, spun herself around and kicked out at Peter's face again. He caught her leg and shoved her away, then jumped over her to land on the other side of the ring.

"Wow, you really don't waste time, huh?"

She was up and punching at him in a heartbeat. Peter dodged, pulled his hands up like a boxer, and struck out with his own punches. He was faster at throwing his fists around than Natasha was, but he still just barely managed to graze her cheek or her shoulder once each.

Then Natasha was in the air, her hands on Peter's shoulders as a fulcrum point, flipping over behind him. At the same time she got her arms around his neck, like she would to break a neck, Peter reached back, grabbed her around the neck as well, and flipped forward. His strength outweighed her momentum, and the two spider-themed heroes smacked into the ground, dislodging both of their grips.

They rolled and were up again instantly. Natasha punched, Peter ducked, Natasha smirked. In the blink of an eye, just long enough for Peter's spider sense to notice she was going to hit him, Natasha had used his crouched position to climb onto his shoulders, wrap her legs around his neck, and flip Peter over, slamming him into the rink floor.

"Oh shit," Flash said from the side of the rink.

Groaning, Peter pushed himself up to his knees.

"Okay," Natasha let out, and Peter was proud to note she sounded a little out of breath. However, she had just finished with Flash too, so it probably wasn't Peter's fault. "Not bad, Spider-kid."

"Not you too," Peter moaned at the nickname. He was on his feet, knees slightly bent, arms up for attack and defense.

They just watched each other for several long moments. Then, impatient, Peter rushed at her. He jabbed out but she simply grabbed him by the arm to throw him over her shoulder. He caught himself with his remaining limbs before he could crash into the ground again. He grabbed Natasha's arm using the one she still held in her grasp, flipped so his feet were facing her, then used his arm and both legs to lift Natasha off the ground and toss her.

She flew through the air, past the edge of the rink, and landed on the couch. Which was actually exactly what Peter had been planning. Cool.

Natasha didn't get up from the couch. Instead, she lounged there, like she meant to be there. "Not bad at all," she commented, almost to herself. Then she sat up. "You're learning to use your opponent's moves and strengths against them more and more. That's good."

Peter glanced at Flash, who looked awestruck, then back at Natasha. "Does that mean practice is over?"

A smirk. "Hardly. We're just beginning." She stood up and moved toward her things, folded neatly on a chair. From the pile she pulled her Black Widow bracelets. "Get your web shooters. We're moving on to weapons."

Working with weapons and Natasha was never fun. He dared anyone to go up against something that could send thousands of volts of electricity racing through your body and call that fun. But Peter did it because it was good training.

The entire time they were fighting, Flash watched. He gasped when Natasha landed a hard blow, let out a quiet 'yes' every time Peter hit Natasha in return, and had even started yelling encouragingly about how "You can do this, Peter! Come on! Get up!" when Peter got zapped by the Widow's Bite and was jerking around on the mat for several long seconds.

When he finally took Flash back to Aunt May's house, Flash admitted, "Seeing you fight was unreal."

"Didn't think I had it in me?" Peter asked, quirking his lips up. He was shuffling a deck of cards so they could play a few games until Aunt May got home for dinner.

A shake of his head. "No," Flash said. "I mean, I knew you were Spider-man. I'd seen you in the suit and you've ditched me for superhero stuff a few times already, but…I mean, you're so fast. And no matter what she did to you, you just kept getting back up. It was…It was amazing, Peter."

Peter blushed at the compliment, especially seeing the adoration in Flash's eyes when it was said.

"But it was really good, for me too," Flash continued after a few minutes. "I mean…I'm not so worried about you getting hurt now. Not after that beating didn't even wind you."

Peter shrugged, but he was grinning. Flash being okay with the superhero thing was good, great even. "Most crime fighting is like that. It's only the super villains you have to worry about."

Peter had just set half of the deck in front of himself and half of the deck in front of Flash when suddenly he paused, as still as if he were a movie someone had stopped mid-scene. A moment later he'd pulled his hands back to himself and was moving again, but the pause had been long enough and obvious enough to catch Flash's attention.

"What's up?" he asked, clearly confused by the sudden heavy air around Peter.

"Um," Peter tried, then swallowed, letting his eyes rest on the cards in front of him instead of on Flash. "Were you…I mean, were you disappointed? That Spider-man was me?"

He put his index finger on the top card in his deck and shifted it from side to side, careful not to topple the deck but needing to do something with his hands. For a few long moments, Flash said nothing. Or maybe it was just one moment. Peter was nervous.

Finally, "You know, I never even thought about that," Flash admitted.

Peter lifted his eyes from the cards. Flash was absentmindedly scratching his cheek.

"I was upset at first, that you didn't trust me enough to tell me. I already said that. And then…I started accepting it. I remember that conversation we had about my fake little brother. Makes a lot more sense looking back, you know? But," he shrugged, "that was all about you being Spider-man, not, I don't know, not Spider-man being you."

"And now? Now that you're thinking about it?"

Flash cupped his chin in his hand and looked up at the ceiling while he thought. He didn't fidget while he thought, like Peter sometimes did. At times, he did rock a little to the left or right, but other than that he was very still.

"I don't know." Peter deflated a bit at Flash's words. "I mean, Spider-man is awesome. He was my idol. I wanted to be like him."

"I get it," Peter said, leaning forward to slump on the table.

Flash looked at him seriously. "No. I don't think you do. Lemme finish." He took a deep breath. "I used to think that if Spider-man could face all the shit he did, could take those beatings, and get up, and be good, then I had no right to do anything else either. I realized, pretty recently, that that's about you too." He shrugged one shoulder. "In high school, you jumped in and took the beatings for a bunch of people I would've otherwise beat the shit out of, but you kept doing it anyway. You got back up. You stayed good. So, I've got no right to do anything else. I gotta get up, and I've gotta do better."

He had a pleasant flush on his cheeks, and his hands were on his knees where they were crossed on the other side of the coffee table. He was treating this like a very important conversation. Maybe it was.

"Everyone keeps telling me that you aren't Spider-man all the time, and sure, you're not in uniform, but you're not different. I mean, when you get to joking, it's that same humor. You have the same morals, the same views." He let out a huff of annoyance. "What I'm trying to say is that I wasn't disappointed. I was actually kind of excited, and not only because I didn't have to worry about my favorite hero trying to get between me and the guy I liked. I would've hated to turn him down, and now I know so much about Spider-man that I didn't know before, and now I know what you can do, and I've seen you and…and you're awesome, Peter."

There were a bunch of warm, fluttery feelings going on in Peter's stomach and a lightness in his chest. He felt himself sitting up straighter, with confidence in his shoulders and the tilt of his chin. Flash wasn't disappointed. In fact, if it'd been a choice between Peter and Spider-man, he'd just said he would've picked Peter. Peter rubbed at his nose, even though he knew it wouldn't distract from how red his face must've been.

"Wow." His eyes landed on the deck of cards still on the table. "Awesome, huh?" Flash made an affirmative noise. Peter picked up his first card without looking at it. "Well, uh," he cleared his throat. "Let's see if one of those things I can do is beat you at War."

It was as if Flash had been punched. He gave a little start at the sudden subject change. Peter's tone of voice wasn't as light as it had been before he asked, but it was softer, like they'd gotten closer in the span of a few seconds. And they had. Flash saw Peter in Spider-man, had always seen it and just not known what he was seeing. Or maybe he'd always seen Spider-man in Peter, even before Peter got bit. Either way, Flash still looked up to him. He wasn't disappointed to find out they were the same person.

The best part, Peter repeated over and over in his mind as they played, was that Flash would've picked Peter even if they weren't.

"I think this is one thing I can beat a superhero at," Flash said confidently. "You don't need powers to have luck."

"Or do you?"

…

…

The sky was a warm orange behind the gray clouds that slowly dropped snow on Queens, New York. The icy, slushy wannabe snow on the ground from previous days gathered in the ditch and on the side of the street and generally looked gross, but the snow falling past the edge of the porch looked perfect for the holidays. Especially with Flash Thompson bundled up on the front porch and using it as a backdrop.

Peter beamed as soon as he saw his boyfriend and quickly beckoned him inside so he wouldn't freeze, but then someone walked up behind Peter and blocked the path.

"Not so fast, Mr. Thompson," Aunt May said and then pointed up. Both Flash and Peter glanced above the door, where Aunt May had finished off her Christmas decorations with a sprig of mistletoe. "You boys know the rules."

"Aunt May," Peter whined, face flushing, but Flash smirked.

"You heard the lady," the taller man said and stepped into Peter's personal space. He bent forward, capturing Peter's lips as he slid an arm around his waist. Instantly, Peter's arms found their way around Flash too.

A camera flash went off just before they pulled away, and Peter frowned comically at his aunt. She held her camera proudly, no shame in her, and winked at them. Then she turned and disappeared into the dining room.

"Sorry about that," Peter said. "She snuck that up there when I was doing the lights."

"I don't mind. If it means I get to kiss you every time I walk in the door, I'm totally fine with that." Flash leaned in for another kiss, this time letting his hands slip lower on Peter's back, one hand coming to rest on Peter's firm butt. Peter gave a hum of approval into the kiss.

It was intoxicating, knowing Flash wanted him even with the superhero bit and the bruising bit and the science thing. Being with Gwen had been exhilarating too, but these days Peter thought only of his relationship with Flash. While Flash was still recovering, Peter found himself comparing the two relationships all the time, but he knew continuing to do that would only leave him with a sour taste in his mouth.

He was happy with Flash now. That didn't make what he'd had with Gwen any less real. And what he'd had with Gwen didn't make him any less happy with Flash. Peter was surprised and proud of himself for coming to terms with it all as quick as he did, instead of mulling it over for weeks. He was making progress.

Flash liked being with Peter, despite their generally different hobbies and interests, and Peter was going to take full advantage of that. He pushed Flash back gently against the doorframe and slipped his warm hand just barely under the bottom of Flash's layers of jackets, just enough to touch his skin.

"Whoa, now. Public indecency. You're going to damage my innocent eyes here," Tony said in way of announcing his presence.

The two younger men pulled apart, and Peter blushed but Flash did not look ashamed. If anything, he looked smug. Behind Tony, Steve loomed and looked apologetic.

"I'm sure he didn't mean to ruin the moment," he said, even though they all knew it was a lie. "He's just hangry."

"Wha- Did you just say hangry?" Peter asked, expression openly shocked. Flash knocked him in the shoulder, but Peter stood by the question.

With a loud laugh, Tony smacked his hand into Peter's chest and held it there. "That's right. Even senior citizens can learn modern lingo, kid. Keep that in mind for the future." He pat Peter's chest once with his fingers, drawing Peter's attention to a small envelope pinned under Tony's palm. "Found that in the mail today, by the way. Thought you might be interested. But read it later. Right now we have presents to unwrap and food to inhale and all manner of embarrassing holiday stories to tell."

Taking the letter, Peter frowned. "About me? You've only known me for two Christmases. What could you have to embarrass me with?"

"Who said I was talking about you?" Tony asked, slipping into the house.

"He's talking about himself," Steve clarified. "And honestly I don't know if all of the stories are true or not. Knowing him, it could go either way. Which is both interesting… and concerning."

Steve paused before the door frame, arms full of gifts, and glanced at the mistletoe before down at the two young men plastered to the doorframe after letting Tony through. With a heavy stare, he conveyed that he'd like them to move, and Peter almost laughed at the idea that Steve Rogers wouldn't stand under mistletoe with someone else. It seemed he couldn't just ignore it like Tony had.

Peter motioned for Flash to come all the way in, and Steve followed them a half step later, nudging the door shut with his foot.

"Anyway, Flash, what did the doctors say?" Peter asked as they moved into the living room.

Shrugging off his coat, Flash couldn't help but grin. "I'm in the clear. The cure Dr. Banner and Gwen came up with took out the virus, no problem, and there are no signs of it coming back. I'm supposed to come back in if I feel any of the symptoms returning, but they said I'll be back to normal by the new year if I keep doing physical therapy."

"Wonderful!" Aunt May cheered and came over to give him a big hug.

Peter was relieved by the news and exchanged a smile with his godfather. Flash did therapy every day, determined to regain what the virus had taken from him so quickly – mainly his strength and endurance. His hair would take time to regrow, but there was no other sign that Flash had even been sick: No rashes, no sweating, no devolving into madness and hallucination. With his muscles back to normal strength, they could put it all behind them and move on.

The group settled in around the coffee table and, one by one, they exchanged gifts. Some were almost too grand ("Anthony, we talked about this. I don't need you to pay for the house." "Maybe not, May, but now you can focus on getting your degree, like you want to.") and some were perfectly small – Peter got Flash his first skateboard and Flash framed one of Peter's non-Spider-man photos. In the end, no one could say any gift didn't fit the person it was for or that they weren't gratefully accepted. Flash may have had doubts about skating, but he joked that it just meant Peter would have to peel him off the sidewalk a lot.

They ate dinner together, and while it was boisterous and happy, it couldn't compare to the volume or chaos of an Avenger's holiday meal. Still, it was warm and fun, and Flash was smiling. Peter had heard how gloomy family meals at the Thompson household were, how little holiday spirit made it into Mr. Thompson's tiny kitchen, and it made Peter glad that he could at least do this for Flash.

After dinner, Steve helped Aunt May clean up while Tony went into the living room again to find which channel had the best set of holiday movies to watch. And if he accidentally set them up with a year of Netflix in the process because he didn't like any of the options… well that was neither here nor there. Meanwhile, Flash pulled Peter to the entry hall.

"I think I've said this before, but… thanks, Peter," he said, running his hand over his buzzed hair. He did that a lot since the incident, and Peter supposed it was because it felt cool as well as being a familiar throwback to high school.

"For what?" he asked, stepping close enough to run his own hand over Flash's head. The buzzed bits sort of tickled at the same time they were soft, and he ran his hand over them again just for fun.

Flash's eyes shut on the second pass and he took a soft breath. His hand found Peter's raised arm and he opened his eyes, smiling down at Peter. "For letting me be a part of this. I've never had something like this, you know? A family to smile with over dinner and tell old stories to. A support team to help me through therapy." He gripped Peter's arm and his smile turned teasing. "Not even someone who seemed to like rubbing my buzzed head like a creep."

"Heh, really?" Peter couldn't help the laugh. Then, with a devious smirk, he took both hands and rubbed furiously over Flash's hair until the other cried mercy. Then he lowered his hands and laughed again. "Well get used to it. You're part of a family of creeps now. You don't have a choice to be alone on holidays anymore."

Holding his own head with one hand, Flash shrugged. "Alright," he agreed. "I think I can get used to that."

Tony shouted for everyone to join him and Flash inclined his head toward the living room as they heard May and Steve making their way out of the kitchen. But Peter shook his head and said he needed to use the restroom first. It was a lie, but a small and innocent one.

When he was alone, Peter moved to sit on the bottom of the stairs, just out of view of the people now crowding on the couch. He pulled the envelope Tony had brought out of his pocket and turned it over in his hands. It was a letter addressed to Peter, but the handwriting wasn't familiar.

Opening it, he pulled out the letter and checked for the sender. To his honest surprise, he saw the name Harry Osborn scrawled in at the bottom. Returning his eyes to the top, he began to read.

_'My Dear Peter,_

_I apologize if this letter is hard to read. My handwriting is not what it used to be and I've been forbidden the use of technology. The doctors assure me that my dexterity and strength will return with time, but I hardly see how that's meant to comfort someone who will be in prison for the foreseeable future._

_I wanted to write to you to let you know something very important: I was happy that you lived. When I discovered your other identity, I was angry. I felt that you had been stolen from me. I didn't understand, and in my anger and my panic I did something truly horrible. I left you to die. That was the only regret I had at the time. And then you appeared at the convention to stop me. It was like a miracle, Peter. You were alive! I was relieved, and then I remembered that the disease took time to kill and I despaired once more. You were still lost to me forever._

_And that is why I am writing you this letter. You are so special to me Peter. When I thought I'd lost you, I also lost my mind. Admittedly part of that was also the disease running through my brain, but the loss of you was staggering. So though I know I have done reprehensible things, I must ask one last request of you._

_Please write to me. You don't have to consider me a friend again. I know that would be a tall order for anyone who had tried to end your life. But I still believe in the future you will build, Peter. Even without me at your side, with your own mind, your own morals, and your own skills, you are destined for greatness. And I don't mean the spandex and insects. Please let me be a part of that future, even in this small way._

_Even if you deny me this, even if you say no, please know that you saved me, Peter. You saved the city from me, and you saved me from myself. I will never be able to thank you enough for that. Give Mr. Thompson, Ms. Stacy, and your aunt my best wishes for a warm season._

_Waiting with baited breath,_

_Harry Osborn'_

The letter caught Peter off-guard. Not only was it from a man he thought he'd never see again, but because of the contents. Harry Osborn, free from the maddening effects of his disease, was as influential as ever. His words, however scribbled with a shaking hand, were purposeful and effective.

Peter had always believed it was possible to save Harry, that his friend was inherently good, and this letter drew on that. Part of Peter wanted to be proud of his instincts and write back as soon as he could, to assure Harry that he still had a friend who believed in him. Another part of Peter was cautious. Harry always had such sweet words. Was it possible this letter was a trap? Would he ensnare Peter's hopes and feelings for Harry and then one day use them against Peter?

The thought that, even without the illness, Harry might be worse than Peter had ever imagined… it was almost more than Peter could stand to think about. It was definitely more than he should be considering on Christmas day, with his family in the other room waiting for him.

Peter folded the letter back up and slid it back inside its envelope. He'd reread it later. He'd reread it as many times as he had to until he could decide if writing back was the best plan. It wasn't that he didn't want to. Two years ago, he probably would have written back immediately. But life had taught him to be more cautious, and he needed time to figure out if Harry, his once dear friend, was good for him. Actually, he needed to figure out whether continuing their relationship was even good for Harry.

It was a lot to think about. And he'd do it later.

Peter set the letter on a side table as he reentered the living room, out of the way but not easily forgotten. Tony greeted his arrival jubilantly, but Peter didn't miss the way his godfather's gaze flickered to the envelope. Briefly, he wondered if Tony had read it first, but in the end it didn't really matter. Peter plopped himself down on the couch by Tony and let him muss his hair affectionately.

"Everything alright, champ?" Tony asked when he was done.

"Yeah. Yeah, everything's alright," Peter assured and tried to fix his hair. "Except that you've ruined my hair, and Aunt May probably isn't anywhere near done taking photos."

That made Tony laugh and he maybe even made a sorry attempt to help smooth Peter's hair back out, but then he was distracted by Aunt May herself asking him about the movie they were watching. Peter thought Steve would probably be a better, less dramatic person to ask, but it was then that he noticed the captain and Flash were standing over near the kitchen, talking quietly so they wouldn't disturb the others.

Disengaging himself from Tony, Peter moved closer and tried to eavesdrop. The conversation appeared serious. Why was everything so serious on Christmas?

"-won't be easy," Steve was saying when Peter finally picked up on the words. "In fact, it would be just as tough as the military, if not more so. You'd have to go through basic training with the rest of the recruits, plus extra training for superhuman threats."

"You said you wanted me in SHIELD more than in the military. But now it sounds like you're trying to convince me not to do it. I don't get it," Flash said with a deep frown.

Steve shook his head. "I'm not trying to dissuade you, son. I'm just making sure you understand the difficulty. The lines of work are similar, and you'll find the same team mindset and camaraderie. At times, SHIELD will be more dangerous. At others, the military."

"Then why choose SHIELD over the Army or the Navy?" Flash asked. Good question, Peter thought. If the two programs were so close, why ask Flash to join SHIELD when the other had expressed an interest in the army?

"Mission targets," the captain said. "I'm not saying there aren't politics sometimes involved in SHIELD. There are. We're working to fix that. But if you join the U.S. Army, you'll fight anyone who threatens American people, or at least who the politicians want you to think are a threat. In SHIELD, we aren't bound by country. We help whoever needs helping. Sometimes that means being a bump in the road for America, most of the time it doesn't. But if you think you can handle being that bump, and if you really want to defeat bullies – regardless of where they come from – then I think SHIELD is the right uniform for you."

If Flash worked for SHIELD, Peter thought while Flash deliberated, then he'd work alongside the Avengers from time to time. His schedule would be hectic at first, but they could survive that easily. Then he'd have missions, but all couples had jobs, and Peter would have missions too. And if they were lucky, those missions would coincide. If he became good enough, maybe he could become an unofficial Avenger, like War Machine.

Peter liked this plan, to be honest. Sure it was more dangerous than being a bodyguard, but so was being Spider-man, and Flash hadn't said a thing about stopping Peter. Must have been what the Captain said to him months ago – something about not stopping someone you love from doing what they love doing or what they feel they HAVE to do… so long as that something wasn't infecting hundreds of people with a deadly virus, of course.

If Flash could give Peter that kind of consideration, then Peter had no right to stop Flash from joining SHIELD or the military or anything else.

"Alright," Flash finally agreed. "I'll enlist. But I don't expect any special treatment past this, alright? I don't want handouts."

"Of course," Steve said, nodding with a small smile. "The director knows I planned to recruit you, but we can handle the specifics after the holidays."

He started to talk about a timeline of events, but Peter was distracted by Flash glancing in his direction and catching him listening. Instead of seeming upset, the blonde sort of smirked and raised his shoulders in a sort of haughty motion. Peter resisted the urge to chuckle. Flash wasn't even officially in, but he was already proud about being recruited. Well, he should be.

The rest of Christmas went without disturbance, thankfully. They watched classic movies as well as one cheesy new one, and Peter leaned on Flash the whole time. Once in awhile, Flash kissed him, or whatever part of him was closest – his hair, his temple, his hand. Mostly, Peter felt like Flash was trying to get in as much innocent physical contact as he could. It was sort of fantastic, and a little bit electrifying. It was quite a change in cuddle behavior from Gwen, but it wasn't bad. Peter found he liked it.

Eventually, Steve checked his watch and announced that he and Tony had to go.

"Tony has a meeting in the morning," he clarified when Tony tried to argue the point. That cut off the mogul's excuses and he conceded.

The two avengers were seen to the porch, given many hugs by Peter and May, and then they were driving off into the frosty night with their little stack of gifts. When they reentered the house, Flash bounded up the stairs to prepare for bed, but May caught Peter before he could follow.

"Peter," she began, cradling his face in her hands and smiling warmly up at him. When had he grown taller than her? She sighed, and it was a mixture of contentment and concern. "You're alright?" she asked.

Now it was Peter's turn to smile warmly. He slid his hands up onto hers and pulled them down to hold them in his own. "I'm alright, Aunt May," he assured and leaned in to kiss her forehead. "I'm better than alright. And I love you more than words, okay?"

"Okay." Her smile was more relaxed now and she embraced him. "I love you too, Peter. More than words can say." They stood still for a long moment, until they heard the shower kick on upstairs, and then she pulled back. "Now go get ready for bed, and don't let that boy freeze to death. He's not as strong as you."

Somehow, she knew. Peter had known it for months, perhaps for a year. May knew his secret. But she never forced him to talk about it, never even mentioned it directly. It lessened the ball of guilt in his stomach every time she reminded him, because he wasn't really lying to her if she knew.

This time, he couldn't help a small laugh, imagining if anyone else had heard her say that. From their appearances, Flash looked much stronger. "Maybe," he said. "But he's stronger than he looks. He'll be okay. I'll make sure of it."

May nodded and excused herself to make sure the house was tidy before going to bed herself. Peter leapt the stairs in two bounds. In his room, he thought about how long Flash had been sleeping on the couch, and then how long Flash had been sleeping in Peter's bed. It wasn't a large bed, but it was bigger than Peter's old twin size. Shortly after Connors, Peter had accidentally, maybe, broken his headboard and frame. It took almost all his money and some help from Aunt May, but he got a new bed. Now he had a full size. It fit him and Flash well enough, at least.

He listened to the shower run and smiled. Yeah, it fit him and Flash well enough. Maybe one day, after Flash finished SHIELD training, they could move in together and get a bigger bed. But this was good for now. Peter sat on it and stripped off his shirt, tossing it near his hamper. Flopping down on his back, he stared at the ceiling and smiled.

Snow had started falling fresh outside, but inside it was warm and comfortable. The perfect holiday contrast. His family had all been around the dinner table, happy and without argument. A few weeks prior, they'd saved the city from a plague, and no new villain had yet arisen. Flash would soon be out of the shower, and they could lay together, absorbing each other's warmth until they both fell asleep. Maybe someday, they would do more than lay together, but not today. Not until Flash was done with therapy, at least. But they didn't need sex to make the night special.

The holiday was somehow perfect, in all the ways it could be. How rarely did that happen?

The shower shut off down the hall and Peter took a deep breath. He didn't have super smell, but he caught the scent of mint body wash before Flash even made it to the bedroom doorway. It was a fresh, clean smell. When Flash stepped into the room, he was in only a towel. Peter stood and went to hug Flash, but the blonde held up a hand to stop him.

"Whoa now," he said, fighting the urge to grin. "I'm sparkling clean. Don't rub your spider germs all over this." He motioned to his chest dramatically and then pointed back over his shoulder. "Go take a shower, and then we'll hug."

Laughing, Peter agreed. "Alright, alright. Have it your way, Mr. Clean."

He did nab a kiss before leaving, though, so he counted it as a win either way. He got to the bathroom and finished disrobing. While he started the water and ensured it was still warm, he almost laughed again. He didn't think he'd be this happy again after Gwen, but he was. He didn't think he could be this relaxed after Harry, but he was.

Over the din of water, Peter could just make out the sound of Flash calling his mom to wish her a merry Christmas. Peter was happy and relaxed because he had his dysfunctional family, because he had strong support outside of his crazy secret life, because he had Flash. They all made this holiday season special, despite the hectic way it had begun, and he loved them for it.

He stepped into the spray and relaxed further under the hot water. The new year would bring fresh faces, fresh challenges, but for the rest of this year, Peter got Flash in his bed, and Gwen in his heart, and Aunt May in his home, and the Avengers in his corner. The year couldn't end any better.

Peter intended to enjoy it as long as possible.

…

…

_fin_

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**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much to everyone who read and reviewed, or even just read. We knew this pairing had a small fandom, but you all have blown us away with your reception. We received so many more reviews and bookmarks and kudos than we expected. And the reviews we got were so amazing, too! We honestly can't thank you enough for your love and support!


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